Funeral
by California Kat
Summary: Funeral is a True Blood story that picks up following Season 6, Episode 7. Nora has just died, and—at Bill's request—Sookie has brought Warlow back to the human realm. Will the death that surrounds them cause Eric and Sookie to choose life—that "other" life they could have together?
1. Chapter 1: Death All Around

**Story Summary:** _Funeral__ is a __True Blood __story that picks up following Season 6, Episode 7. Nora has just died, and—at Bill's request—Sookie has brought Warlow back to the human realm. Will the death that surrounds them cause Eric and Sookie to choose life—that "other" life they could have together? _

_Now—I know that come Sunday, the version of events in this story will be null and void; however, while Eric and Sookie are in the same zip code, I wanted to continue the story __my__ way. ;)_

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognized characters, images, lines of dialogue, and plot lines are the sole property of their creators. I own only my own imagination as it involves the characters I love; however, even my imaginary constructions would be impossible without _True Blood_ and the _Southern Vampire Mystery_ series. My work is not-for-profit and intended only for the enjoyment of the writer and readers. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Acknowledgments & Dedication:** I want to dedicate this story to all Eric & Sookie fans, who see what this couple "could" be if their "makers" would let them reach their full potential. And as always, I want to acknowledge CDB33. This story is for you—because every once in a while, things should go the way YOU want them to go. If you liked this piece, I hope that you will check out my other stories and my WordPress site: californiakat1564 . wordpress . com (just take out the spaces).

**Final Note:** This is not a long story. It will be about 4 or 5 chapters. The inspiration bug bit and I wrote; however, _Comfortably Numb_ has NOT been shelved! A new chapter of it will be coming soon. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this. It will not be going though as vigorous an editing job as I usually try to do with my stories, so forgive any errors.

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_**Funeral**_

**Chapter 1: Death All Around**

_Sookie's POV_

It felt like my blood was pulling me to Bill's house, but I wasn't sure why. Still—I let my feet have free reign and take me for a walk across the graveyard.

I certainly wasn't going to make sure Bill didn't harm his "child," even though I'd just witnessed Ben—or Warlow or whatever his name was—being dragged in the direction of Bill's mansion because of the call of his "maker."

Nope. I was done giving any kind of fuck about Warlow. By trying to manipulate me and blackmail me into being "his" by holding my friends' lives over my head, he had pretty much screwed up any chance he might have had with me.

Oh—and then there was my moment of coherent thought! Warlow had likely killed _everyone_ at the fairy "club," including Claude. How I'd "let that go" for even a minute and then slept with him was beyond me!

But—then again—I wasn't always the most "meticulous" of thinkers. And self-destruction was my middle name. I sighed. I really should get cards printed up with Sookie "Danger Whore" Stackhouse on them.

I certainly wasn't walking towards Bill's house to see its current owner either. Was it even still Bill? Billith seemed like a more appropriate moniker.

Still, something Bill had said earlier had stuck with me.

Eric had been in some kind of vampire prison, but he had escaped. Was he okay?

Was he okay?

Was he okay?

That question repeated in my head over and over again as I approached Bill's house. And every time it was asked, my blood seemed to scream the same answer: "No."

The front door was half open, probably because of Warlow's haste to answer Bill's call. I decided not to knock.

Immediately when I walked inside, I heard Eric's angry voice coming from upstairs.

He was yelling at Bill—and maybe Warlow too. And, as he raged, I realized that he'd never sounded more like a Viking—or a vampire—to me.

"Where the fuck were you, Bill? Why did it take you so long to bring him here?"

True to form, Bill placed blame elsewhere. "Sookie was protecting him."

"Sookie?" Eric yelled in anger and disbelief.

Truth be told, Eric's tone scared the shit out of me. The memory of him at Russell's house, fangs drawn and claiming not to care about me flooded into my head. However, I knew Eric well enough now to know when he was most likely to lie to me—to lash out at me. It was when he needed to strike out against his _own_ pain. So I climbed the stairs.

From the top one, I heard Eric's voice again, this time laced with both anger and sarcasm. "What? The almighty profit didn't want to pick a fight with his precious Sookie?"

When I entered the room, every man I'd ever had sex with—all three of them—looked at me with accusation.

Warlow looked as if I'd stolen his favorite puppy. No—he looked at me as if I was his favorite puppy and had chosen to run away. Geez! One fuck did not equal possession!

Bill—or Billith—was looking at me as if I was a bug and he was a giant shoe. Of course, I _had_ tried to stake him—just a couple of days before—so I really couldn't blame him for not wanting to be friendly.

Eric was standing next to a bed, and he was covered in blood and vampire remains. But other than the bloody tears streaming from his eyes, none of the gore on his body seemed to be his own.

As our gazes locked, his eyes flashed dangerously. "This is your fault! Had you brought Warlow more quickly, she wouldn't be dead!"

"Oh, God!" I exclaimed, stepping forward and ignoring the fact that Eric had murder in his eyes. "Not Pam!"

"No," he said, his voice quieter, though no less frightening. "Nora."

My eyes whipped from Eric's stare to the sludge on the bed and then back again. "What happened?"

Bill was the one to answer. "The humans have concocted a new disease."

I glanced at him. "A new disease?"

"Hepatitis V," Bill informed. "It killed Nora from the inside out in less than 24 hours."

"Eric," I sighed, my eyes going back to his. "I'm so sorry."

For a split second his features softened a fraction, but the hardness was back in the next moment. He inhaled deeply, and I could tell that his ancient nose had picked up on _everything_ I'd done during the last day—all my sins.

"What are you sorry for, Miss Stackhouse?" he asked icily. "Because you were too busy fucking the new flavor in town to care about anyone else or to bother helping me save my sister?" he continued, his voice brimming over with spite.

"You _will_ shut your mouth about my mate, vampire!" Warlow stormed.

I sighed. Warlow's input was definitely not welcome, especially not when Eric was so obviously in pain.

"Yours?" Eric asked sarcastically. "Sookie Stackhouse will _never_ belong to anyone," he said, his tone shifting to almost pride for a moment before moving back to sarcasm. "At least not for long."

"She_ is_ mine!" Warlow yelled.

As the fairy-vampire moved threateningly toward Eric, I stiffened. Luckily Bill stepped in, "Warlow, as your maker, I command you not to harm Eric. He is my," Bill paused, "guest."

No longer able to attack, Warlow snarled at Eric. "It isn't as if my blood could have healed some mysterious disease anyway!" he said as if enjoying Eric's pain a little. Then, he turned back toward me. Luckily, his feet seemed frozen in place.

"What is he to you? I know about Bill, but have you tainted yourself with this one too?" Warlow asked, gesturing toward Eric.

"Tainted!" I returned in disbelief. "If that's what you really think, then why would you even want me?"

"You are mine! You have _always_ been meant for me," Warlow said intensely. "Before you were even born, you were mine—my fated."

"I am _not_ yours, Warlow," I said, my lips barely moving because my teeth were clenched together so tightly in anger and disgust—much of it directed toward myself. "And I _never_ will be."

"You are! I have every right to you!" the fairy-vampire hybrid maintained. "You and I shared our light! That is sacred!"

"No," I said fiercely. "It was a fuck."

"You lie!" Warlow insisted.

Knowing it was fruitless to argue with Warlow, I looked back at Eric. Hurt and anger were warring in his expression. "I _am_ sorry about Nora," I told him quietly.

Eric looked like he was going to yell again, but he didn't. Instead, his eyes suddenly lost their fire, and he looked broken—as he had on that rooftop in Dallas right after Godric had ordered him to leave. Not knowing how else to comfort Eric then, I'd touched his hand and promised to stay with Godric. My hand itched to touch Eric again—to hold him—but I stopped myself from reaching out. Eric was proud, and the last thing he would want was comfort from me in front of Bill and Warlow. Hell—he probably wouldn't admit that he needed comfort at all.

However, I still tried to convey with my eyes what my hands couldn't do.

Eric broke our stare and turned around to face away from his audience.

"Let me be alone with my sister," he said gruffly.

"Of course," Bill said compassionately.

I sighed as I caught a glimpse of the man I'd first fallen in love with from Bill. No. Actually, I saw a glimpse of someone even better—the king who had spared Eric's life when he'd been under the witch's curse. Before Bill had changed into some demi-god or whatever he was now, I'd been getting to know _that_ Bill. It was a shame that he was no longer around fulltime. At least I knew that _that_ Bill was real—that he wasn't performing in order to manipulate me for his queen. I think I could have even come to be _that_ Bill's friend.

Bill looked at Warlow. "Come," he ordered.

I couldn't help but to smile a little. I was no Billith fan, but it was good to see Warlow have to heel.

I took a deep breath and lingered for a moment while Bill and Warlow left the room. Eric's back was still to me.

"My Gran was the best person I ever knew," I whispered. "Her grave isn't fresh, but I know Gran would welcome Nora and take care of her as if she were her own—if you think Nora would have liked that," I finished before walking quickly out of the room. I didn't expect Eric to answer. No. Actually, I didn't want him to feel he had to. I just wanted to offer a resting place for his sister if one was needed.

I didn't know what vampires did with their dead. And I knew little about Vikings either, though I recalled from history class that they often burned their dead. I had seen the already-dug grave for Terry when I'd been walking from the graveyard, and it looked cold and lonely in the dirt, though vampires had a different attitude about that, I supposed.

I sighed and then followed raised voices to Bill's office, where Warlow and Bill were arguing about Bill's plan to save the others. It seemed Bill wanted for Eric to smuggle Warlow's blood back into the vamp prison so that Eric could give some of it to everyone who had been in Bill's vision.

I felt a pang of worry. I didn't want Eric going back into that prison, but if it would save Tara and Jessica and Pam, I knew he'd do it. Plus, knowing Eric, he'd want to wreck a little havoc in retribution for Nora's death. I couldn't say I blamed him for that.

Why Bill didn't just use his newfound ability to day-walk, his seeming indestructibility, and his new "gifts" to destroy the prison was beyond me, but he seemed to be certain that his vision had to occur just as he'd seen it—except for the different outcome, I presume.

"What are you still doing here?" Bill asked me as I walked into the room. It seemed as if rude Billith was back.

I took a deep breath. "I brought Warlow back here—just as you asked—and now I need something in return."

"What?" Bill asked.

"My freedom," I replied.

"Sookie—no!" Warlow begged.

"Explain," Bill said to me, looking intrigued.

"Years before I was born, one of my ancestors signed a contract, which would give the firstborn, spark-carrying fairy to him," I said, gesturing toward Warlow. "I want you to order him to break that contract."

"No!" Warlow yelled. "If you do that, I _won't_ help you save the others," he shouted at Bill.

I looked at Warlow with skepticism. "Based on how you feel about other vampires, I bet that Bill would have to command you to give up your blood no matter what, so your cooperation doesn't really seem to be a necessity here."

"And what will _I _get if I help you?" Bill asked.

"What do you want?" I responded warily.

Bill considered for a moment. "I need to make sure that Jessica isn't punished if she returns here. She lost control with Andy Bellefleur's half fairy children." He paused and looked anguished. "It is my fault that I left her alone with them."

I sighed. At least he was taking some responsibility for that tragedy. "Why not glamour the memories from everyone?" I asked.

"That wouldn't work with Andy's remaining child. Plus, I wouldn't want to take away the few memories Andy has of his children," Bill replied, his eyes taking on a faraway look. I wondered if he was remembering his own human children in that moment.

I nodded. "Okay, Bill," I said softly. "I'll poke around in their heads and make sure that they aren't intending to do anything to Jess, and as long as you promise not to hurt them, I'll let you know if they are."

Bill nodded. "In that case, we have an agreement, Sookie."

"Don't do this," Warlow begged both Bill and me, trying to struggle against some kind of force holding him in place.

"Warlow," Bill said authoritatively, "as you maker, I command you to break the contract that gives you a right to Sookie. I command you to relinquish all claim to her now and in the future."

"No," Warlow insisted, continuing to struggle.

"Warlow!" Bill yelled, having already moved directly in front of Lilith's child. Bill's new long fangs were down and threatening. He glared at the fairy-vampire hybrid. "Break it!" he repeated.

Warlow closed his eyes as if in pain, and in the next moment, the contract—obviously brought by his fairy magic—appeared on Bill's desk. I guess I should have been used to magic by then, but the scroll's sudden appearance startled me.

Warlow looked up at me, and for a moment, I felt his glamour trying to invade my mind. And when that didn't work, I heard his voice in my head. "Please, Sookie, don't do this. Please, let me love you through eternity."

I shook my head and then used my shields to force him out of my mind.

Still obviously struggling, but no longer able to deny the order from his maker, Warlow walked over to Bill's desk and stood by the scroll, his hand hovering right over it.

As Warlow spoke in a language I didn't understand, the scroll opened. I could see the words light up and then disappear one by one. "I proclaim this contract null and void," Warlow said after all the words were gone from the page. Next, he tore at his wrist with his fangs and dropped some of his blood onto the scroll. The document began to smoke.

Bill took in the sight without surprise. "Will Sookie's blood be required?" he asked.

Warlow nodded, though he looked pained as he did so.

Bill's fangs clicked down. "Allow me," he said to me with a half-smirk, half-leer.

"No thanks," I responded, picking up a letter opener from the other side of the desk. Though it was blunt and would hurt like hell, the last thing I wanted in my body was a set of vampire fangs. I cut a jagged line across the palm of my left hand and then waited for the blood to begin flowing before I held my hand over the contract. As soon as my blood touched the scroll, it burst into flame and consumed itself, not even leaving ashes behind.

I took off my sweater and wrapped my wound before either of the vampires in the room could get any ideas.

"It's done," Warlow said with an agonized expression on his face. "All that I have lived for is now gone."

I looked at him, unable to prevent my pity. "You were living for something that wasn't real, and I'm sorry if you're hurting, but you should learn to accept who you are and find something that makes you happy."

"_You_ will make me happy," he said unrelentingly. "It is your destiny."

I sighed. "No. I'm sorry, but it's just not." I ran my unwounded hand through my hair. "I know that it was my choice to have sex with you. Hell—I initiated it!" I admitted, embarrassed that I was having this conversation in front of Bill, but not really wanting to have a confrontation with Warlow about it later. "And to be honest, I'm not a hundred percent sure why I did it. Maybe I just wanted to feel like I was in control of my life for a change. But it's not gonna happen again!"

"You don't mean that. What we are to each other—it doesn't need a contract," Warlow contended.

"What we are?" I asked, my frustration at his single-minded and delusional persistence growing. "I've only known you for a couple of days. And in that time, you've lied to me and tried to manipulate me into following a contract that I never signed."

"I've also saved your life," Warlow reminded, "more than once."

"I know," I said, "and I appreciate that. But what about all the lives you took?"

Warlow raised his eyebrows in question.

"The fairy club," I said.

Immediately, Warlow looked as guilty as Bill had when I'd learned about his "assignment" for the queen.

"I did not intend to hurt them, but when I smelled them, I couldn't help myself," Warlow insisted. "I never wanted to be vampire!" He looked at Bill accusingly before turning anguished eyes to me. "They may have tried to interfere with my claim over you—as Niall did. You must understand! Plus, if you hadn't told me of their location, I would have never felt the temptation."

I scoffed. "You're a real piece of work—trying to blame me for what you did." Having had my fill of Warlow, I turned to Bill. "Thank you, Bill. I hope that your plan works. I really do."

Bill nodded a little.

"And I'll let you know what I find out regarding Andy's plans about Jessica. And I'll," I paused, "try to look out for her best interests."

Bill nodded. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," I said sincerely. I loved Jessica like a sister, and if a vampire as old as Warlow could "lose control" around fairies, then how much harder would it have been for a baby vampire. At least Jessica didn't seem to be foisting the blame onto others.

"Goodbye, Bill," I said.

"Sookie," he returned rather stiffly and formally.

"Sookie," Warlow said pleadingly.

I turned to look at him, and for a second, I thought of Ben the fairy and not Warlow the vampire. Even as I did, however, I felt him trying to influence me with either his glamour or his ability to get into my head using his telepathy. I resisted.

"Did you kill Niall?" I asked, needing to know the answer to one more question.

"No," Warlow said, though his eyes betrayed guilt.

"Okay," I said, "but I can tell you did something to him. What?"

Warlow sighed. "I banished him to where he banished me twenty years ago."

"Can you bring him back?" I asked.

"If you will agree to be mine again," he replied.

I shook my head. Clearly, he'd yet to get the memo that I _didn't_ respond well to ultimatums.

Call me selfish. Call me an idiot. Call me a hypocrite. Call me a danger magnet. Hell—even call me a woman of "loose morals," as Gran used to say.

In that moment, I felt like all of those things. But I was _not_ going to be the selfish, idiotic, hypocritical danger whore who gave my eternity away. I'd look for another way to help Niall, or he'd have find a way to help himself.

Without another word, I turned and left the mansion. As far as I was concerned Warlow didn't deserve a further response.

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**A/N: I hope you like the beginning of this story. I will try to post a chapter every day or two until this story is done. Remember, there are only 4-5 chapters as of now. After that, I'll pick up with **_**Comfortably Numb**_** for those of you who are reading that.**

**Thanks so much for reading. I hope that you will leave some feedback for me. **

**Cheers,**

**Kat **


	2. Chapter 2: A Reckoning

**Chapter 2: A Reckoning **

**Reckoning **(noun)

1. a count; a computation; a calculation.

2. the settlement of accounts, as between two individuals.

3. a statement of an amount due; a bill.

4. an accounting, as for things done.

5. an appraisal or judgment.

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_Sookie's POV_

I fought the pull of my blood all the way home; it seemed to want to return to Eric. Or maybe that pull was my heart fighting to go comfort him. I wasn't sure.

Either way, I felt as if I were in a tailspin. In truth, I'd been in one of those for a long time—even before I'd met Bill. Maybe for my whole life.

There was nothing like death to make a person reassess his or her life, and I didn't like what I saw.

I tried looking back into the past—tried locating a moment when I was in control of my life.

I couldn't find one.

My telepathy had pretty much always guaranteed that I wouldn't be in control. From the time when I was very young, I'd tried to regulate the voices in my head, but it had taken me a long time to build shields. Of course, those shields still weren't foolproof, and I had no influence over them at times.

However, things had become more tolerable during the last few years. When I was a child, the thoughts could be unbearable—crushing even.

My very first memory was of my mother's disapproval and fear. I guess I'd repeated one of her thoughts. I didn't remember the specific thought I'd echoed from her head. But I did remember the ones that came after that. I remember how she grew to resent me.

My daddy was more into denial—denial that I was "different" at all. That's probably why he'd tried to kill me—twice—rather than let me be paired off with something he considered a "monster." I guess you could say that I had some "mixed feelings" about that.

Of course, my daddy hadn't succeeded in killing me either time. I'd been saved, and my parents had been killed by that "monster"—who also happened to be the man I'd had sex with not 24 hours before.

I sighed and sat down heavily onto my bed. Maybe I'd fucked Warlow out of gratefulness. Maybe I'd taken his blood to try to take some control over my fucked up situation—to finally feel like I was the one with the power. Maybe I'd impaled myself on his cock in order to fuck away everything that had come before that.

Or maybe—for just a moment—I'd been too tired to resist my so-called destiny. After all, I had been the prize filly in an age-old contract, which had been signed by the blood of my ancestor. I'd been signed away by blood, and after I'd bitten Warlow, my own blood had boiled. Maybe that's why I'd fucked him.

"Fuck!" I exclaimed, knowing very well that Gran would NOT approve of my saying that word in my thoughts—let alone out loud. But it seemed appropriate for the occasion. Still—I apologized for what Gran would have called "my potty mouth" both mentally and aloud, just in case she was "around" and listening.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. In some way or another, blood seemed to be at the root of everything that had ever happened to me.

But—over my blood—I'd had zero control.

I'd had no choice but to be born with fairy blood flowing through my veins.

I'd had no choice about having a fairy spark that would manifest itself in my telepathy.

That telepathy would lead to my mother's fear and my father's denial.

That would lead to them trying to kill me.

That would lead to their deaths.

That would lead to my staying with Gran.

That would lead to Hadley's learning about my disability.

That would lead to her telling the queen.

And that would lead to Bill. And his blood and his lies. And then loving him.

And Gran's death.

And Eric. And his blood. And his lies. And then his truths. And then his amnesia. And then loving him.

Blood. My blood was like crack to vampires—including Warlow. Maybe especially Warlow.

I closed my eyes tightly and remembered what Bill had said earlier that day. He'd had a vision—a premonition—of Jessica and Tara burning in the sun, and I loved them both very much. He'd also seen Pam being forced to meet the sun. And I almost liked her—_sometimes_. Okay—I liked her, even though she seemed to hate me.

Bill had also seen Eric in that vision. I shivered and opened my eyes, not even wanting to entertain the possibility of his dying.

_Eric_. He'd looked so broken as he'd stood over Nora's remains, and my whole body shook again as I thought of him. I looked down at my palm. It was glowing, but not as if a fire ball were about to shoot out of it. No. It was just a glow. A warm, golden light—much more comforting and meaningful than the one that had encompassed Warlow and me as we'd had sex. It was a light that made me think of Eric. I stared at my hand to wait for it to go away.

But it lingered.

I sighed as I traced the line that I'd cut into my palm with Bill's letter opener. It had stopped bleeding already and was well on its way to healing. Maybe that's what my light was doing—healing the wound. I traced the little cut again as I remembered Eric offering me his bitten palm in the cubby.

"We will be one," he'd said before I'd drunk his blood. And after that, I'd felt something that I could only describe as magical. Whatever hallucination I'd been a part of with him was both surreal and more real than anything I'd ever experienced.

He'd loved me then and I'd loved him.

It had been just that simple.

However, after Eric had regained his memories, I'd felt as if I no longer had control over what I was feeling for anyone. After all, after being shot, I'd been given Bill's blood again, and I'd immediately felt like I loved him again. It was all so screwed up! Did I love Eric and/or Bill because of my heart or because of the blood that moved through it? And did they love me just because of my fairy blood?

Out of uncertainty and what I was beginning to see as my totally unrealistic desire to just be "normal," I'd cast away both Bill and Eric.

Again—that was another time when I'd not really thought things all the way through before making a decision.

Eric—the _whole_ one with all his memories intact—had confessed that he loved me. And it was clear he wanted a chance—just a chance. But I'd refused him. In truth, I didn't really believe that he _could_ love me—at least not for long.

I was afraid of the inevitability of his rejection of me. So I'd done the rejecting myself—to save everyone time, I guess.

But why wouldn't I be skeptical of his affection? After all, I'd been a social pariah all my life—a cast-off. Crazy Sookie with her crazy smile. And then I'd become a fangbanging whore—at least, according to the thoughts of most of the residents of Bon Temps.

I laughed bitterly as the light went away and I closed my fist. I guess I'd proven everyone right. I'd even fucked the vampire who'd killed my parents. I'd fed him. I'd bitten him. I'd ridden him.

And—though I'd slept with two other vampires—I hadn't really felt like a "fangbanging whore" until I was lying there with Warlow in a _literal_ afterglow. That light had been a little too bright—a little too blinding.

I sighed and tried—at least for the moment—to put aside my self-depreciating thoughts and my religious upbringing. Though I was no longer the oldest virgin that I knew, I recognized that I was anything but a whore. I was past my mid-20s, and I'd had sex with three people—_not_ a huge number compared to most of the people in town. I'd had two relationships and—as of yesterday—a one-night stand.

That said, I wasn't overly proud of the way I'd been trying to use sex lately. I'd almost slept with Alcide because I was drunk as a skunk and upset about Tara's anger and Lafayette's judgment.

Yep. I'd decided to have sex with Alcide so that I could feel better. And I wasn't proud of myself for intending to use to friend that way. Looking back, I was glad that Bill and Eric had interrupted us.

I sighed. Maybe I was a little drunk on vampire blood when I'd slept with Warlow too, but—again—I'd wanted for sex to help me to feel better. My only defense was that it had been a shitty day, and at least I hadn't used "a friend" this time. After all, it isn't every day that you learn that your father really _did_ try to kill you when you were a child, nor is it every day that he possesses one of your only friends so that he can try to drown you again.

Yep. A little mindless, body-pleasuring sex had seemed like just the ticket for what ailed me in that moment. And there really was something about Warlow—actually, something about _Ben_—that pulled me to him. It was almost like glamour—a voice deep in my head that I wasn't used to keeping out. Having felt him trying to "speak" to me again since then, I was beginning to recognize when he was doing it and to push him out. However, that didn't change the fact that I had _chosen_ to have sex with Warlow because I wanted to feel something other than the ache of betrayal and loss.

I sighed. Using sex as emotional Tylenol rarely turned out well. I'd heard that from a lot of people's heads! I should have "listened" to those thoughts and learned from them.

Maybe I was just experiencing the inevitable "walk of shame" that many people did after having casual sex for the first time. God knows, I'd heard about that phenomenon from a lot of people's heads too.

Or maybe I felt guilty because I had used someone that I knew was "into me"; undoubtedly, Warlow wanted me to be "his." I had recognized that he had "feelings" for me—though I suspected they actually had very little to do with the "real" me and were based upon some "ideal" he'd been dreaming up for centuries. Yes. Just as I had almost gotten romantically involved with Sam once upon a time—despite the fact that I hadn't cared for him in the same way he'd cared for me—I had used Warlow, and I couldn't help but to feel a little bad about that.

Then again, I'd offered Warlow no great protestations of love before I'd lowered myself onto his body, nor was I shy about my feelings afterwards. Gran had taught me that I was responsible for only one person's feelings: my own. Of course, in the next breath she had always told me that people who loved each other nurtured each other's feelings not out of obligation, but out of choice.

Gran's lesson was a good one. To nurture was not the same as to be responsible.

Honestly, I wanted neither to nurture nor to take responsibility for Warlow's feelings anytime soon. And realizing that, I also recognized that I didn't want to pursue any kind of long-term relationship with him. And casual sex was obviously out. I shook my head and chuckled ruefully. Yep. It was clear that Warlow didn't understand that concept—at least, not where I was concerned.

I took a deep breath and tried to be rational about my experience with Warlow/Ben. I laughed again. Maybe, I should come up with a new name to use: Benlow? Warlen? I giggled like a school girl: Billith and Benlow were quite the pair.

My laughter stopped, and I sighed. I felt myself doing that a lot lately.

I found that I could be almost "clinical" about the actual sex I'd had with Warlow. Undeniably, the act itself had been pleasurable. He'd obviously gotten "around" during his time, and he'd had thousands of years to practice. I'd cum. He'd cum. And a light had encompassed us when we did; afterwards, he'd told me that's what happened when two fairies "shared their light." But that light—disappointingly enough—hadn't signaled transcendence. It had just signaled a regular old orgasm.

Congratulations, Warlow. You are now equivalent to the Rabbit in my nightstand.

I sighed—_again_. Obviously, I was looking for more.

I shook my head. Maybe I was looking for what I'd experienced with Eric. At a thousand years old, Eric was skilled, but he was a child compared to Warlow. However, it had been _Eric_ who had stirred me like no other. And it had been after exchanging blood with _Eric_ that I'd experienced something transcendent—that we'd experienced it together. Maybe it was because I trusted him; therefore, I could let _myself_ experience unequalled pleasure with him.

As Eric and I had lain in bed after we'd had sex for the first time—actually after the first six times if each orgasm and location counted as a separate event—I'd told Eric that I _wanted_ for things to remain the same for us when he got back his memories, even though I also conveyed that I doubted they could. He'd looked so hopeful, and I'd not been able to take that hope away from him. But now I recognized that I'd lied to myself.

I'd been scared of him, as well as of my feelings for him, which had slammed into me quickly and comprehensively. And because of my fear of his blood and its effects—actually, my fear of _all_ blood and its effects—I'd never really given the "complete" him a chance.

I suppose that made me a hypocrite now, since I'd voluntarily—and without adequate thought—taken blood from _another_ vampire. That was me sometimes: an unthinking hypocrite. Maybe one day I'd learn.

I closed my eyes.

Arguably, when I'd taken Eric's blood in the cubby, I'd taken it just as rashly. "We will be one," he'd said, his eyes shining with a look that conveyed love instead of possessiveness.

It hadn't taken me long to decide to drink from him.

Of course, it hadn't taken me long to let my fear take over either. Did Eric's blood in me cause me to act or feel something I normally wouldn't? Was it like Bill's blood? I'd taken Eric's in Dallas too, and I'd had those dreams. Could Eric control them? I'd had so many questions—most of them dealing with whether any of my feelings were my own.

I'd wanted proof of something real. I'd wanted something tangible.

And Eric had given me that—in the form of my home. And he'd also acknowledged who I was and—more importantly—who I was to _him_ to Nora. To his _family_.

"She's a waitress," he'd said minutes after he'd saved everyone in the fairy club by killing Russell. His eyes had shined with pride and so much more as he'd looked at me that night.

Of course, a couple of days after that, I'd rescinded his invitation to my beautifully restored home—his gift to me. And then, just a day after that, I'd invited another vampire into that home—a fairy-vampire, who'd wanted to possess me.

Of course, in my defense, I hadn't known that Ben was really Warlow when I'd found him "hurt" by the side of the road.

I sighed at my foolishness at once more simply accepting a story that I'd been spoon-fed. Like Bill before him, Ben had lied to me from the start. He'd known who I was, and he'd manufactured a vampire attack so that he could manipulate me. He'd not had the Rattrays handy to "drain" him, but it had been the same damned thing that Bill had done. And I'd fallen for it—hook, line, and sinker.

My hand felt heavy as I pushed a tear from my cheek.

I'd told Eric that I wanted to be the girl in the white dress again. But I hadn't even been that girl when I'd worn that dress to Fangtasia. I'd already had Bill's blood in me by then. Had it already been "working on me"—trying to get me to fall in love with its owner?

Regardless of my having Bill's blood, however, Eric had seen me as innocent the night I'd first walked into his bar. And in order to give me what I'd told him I wanted, he'd walked away without a fight after I'd rescinded his invitation to my newly returned home.

Instead of arguments or anger, he'd offered me only a "goodnight," though his eyes had spoken of so many things. He'd still loved me, but I had been trying—so desperately trying—to deny my supernatural self and find my way back to the Sookie Stackhouse I'd been before I met Bill.

It turned out that I was _a lot_ like my daddy. I was just as fond of denial as he'd been. Hell—I'd even tried to kill the fairy within by shooting away all my powers.

I sighed—_again_. And I wiped away a large tear—_again_. Eric had told me that—to him—I'd always be that girl in the white dress. Maybe he was the only one who had ever truly been able to see her. And—if that were the case—then the last thing I should have done was send him away. I should have held onto him as tightly as I could.

But I'd been so freaked out that night. I'd just attempted to kill Bill, and I wasn't sorry for it! I'd felt so changed—so cold—and I hadn't even recognized myself.

And—truth be told—it had been disconcerting to know that Eric still saw me the _same_ way he'd seen me the night we'd met. His eyes had brimmed with unspoken love, and I'd been unable to deal with that.

I sighed. I wouldn't be surprised if Eric never admitted to loving me again, even though his actions spoke louder than any words could. He was too proud, and I'd rejected his words once. I'd lumped him and Bill together, telling them both goodbye at the same time. I hadn't even had the decency to tell Eric in private, even after the life-changing week we'd shared together.

I guess I'd just assumed that it hadn't changed Eric's life as much as it had changed mine. And—of course—I'd tried to deny my feelings. It seemed that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

I wondered if Eric had known that Bill's presence had been the crutch I'd needed to say goodbye to him that night. I had loved Eric, and if my willingness to kill Bill to protect him was any indication, I still loved Eric.

But where had love ever gotten me?

And what was to say that Eric didn't crave my blood just as much as Bill had? Want my soul just as much as Warlow did?

But would those things necessarily be bad—if it were Eric doing the wanting, that is?

Yes—it was safe to say that I was in a tailspin.

But none of my shit—_none of it_—matched the suffering of Eric or Arlene right now.

Eric had lost a "sister" he'd had for who knew how long. I'd seen his face. He'd loved her. I felt a twinge of jealousy when I thought about the fact that they were likely lovers, but I pushed that emotion away. I'd staked no claim to Eric—not even when I could have. And I'd had sex with one man and tried to have sex with another in the few weeks since I'd rejected Eric.

I closed my eyes again and remembered the look in Eric's eyes when I'd seen him an hour before. Yes. Eric loved Nora—probably more profoundly than I loved Jason. And there was more. Somehow I knew that Nora was one of the last links Eric had to Godric.

"Godric," I said with sudden realization. Maybe there was something that I could do to comfort Eric, after all.

* * *

**A/N: First, I want to say a big thank you to everyone who commented on this story! You all blew me away with your reactions! I'd also like to thank those who put the story on their favorite lists (or on their story alert lists). WOW!**

**Next, I wanted to say a little about Sookie. It might seem like I'm doing a little Sookie bashing in this story (or some of you may think I'm not doing enough). However, I have mixed feelings about Sookie. I love her potential as a character, and I think that a lot of the things she does come from her naiveté. After all, Eric does some dumb, prideful things too sometimes (and he's got a thousand years on Sookie). People are flawed and make stupid errors sometimes; that's what makes forgiveness a "divine" thing instead of an easy thing. Thus, my inclination in my stories is to give Sookie a break, forgive her mistakes, and let her figure things out on her own. Despite what happened in the books (and what will likely happen on the show), I believe that the Sookie Stackhouse that C.H. introduced us to all those years ago has the capability to "work it out." So that's the Sookie I write. Also, I don't necessarily "hate" Warlow/Ben—though I think that his duplicity and his violence (to the fairies at the club) have been glossed over. And—to be frank—he seems quite "beginning Bill-like" to me.**

**All that said, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! Please let me know that you think! Because I'm prioritizing working on my writing over responding to reviews so that I can get this out faster, you might not get a personalized response as I usually like to do, but I want you all to know that I appreciate knowing what you think.**

**Cheers,**

**Kat**


	3. Chapter 3: Walk Toward the Light

**Chapter 3: Walk Toward the Light**

_Sookie POV_

"Godric," I said with sudden realization. Maybe there was something that I could do to comfort Eric, after all.

With a kind of purpose I hadn't felt in a long time, I walked up the stairs to the old attic and went straight to the corner of the large space, being careful not to hit my head on the sloping beams that I'd swung from as a kid. The corner of the attic farthest from the entrance had been my little sanctuary. I'd hidden there—behind a myriad of boxes—as much as possible when Uncle Barlett had come around. And even when he wasn't around, I'd played there for hours when the voices of Gran and Jason got to be too loud inside my head.

There weren't any old and rickety boxes in the attic anymore. Everything that had been salvaged during the renovation had been put into neatly labeled, pristine packing boxes—the kind with the thick cardboard that didn't easily bend. Something inside of me told me that Eric had been responsible for doing even the packing of the attic. The handwriting looked like the same neat and elegant script that was on the note in my buffet drawer—the note that returned Gran's home to me.

Why had I been so angry at him for his "high-handedness?" Why hadn't I said thank you.

Oh yes. It was because I'd been shocked about missing a year of my life. I'd been freaked out about being "legally dead." And I'd been afraid that Eric wanted to use me, which was a logical assumption based on the evidence that I had available to me at the time. It'd been the wrong assumption, but it had—perhaps—been the most feasible one.

I pushed a few of the perfectly stacked boxes out of the way and wondered just how comprehensive Eric's renovation had been. I smiled as the floorboard squeaked under my foot and then bent down to pry up the loose board with my fingers.

Eric had missed a spot.

"Well—I guess nobody's perfect," I chuckled as the floorboard came up as it always had. I had found the spot by accident the first time I'd hidden in the attic to avoid Uncle Bartlett. Gran had taken Jason to the movie theater that day, but I couldn't go because Gran knew that being around that many people was too difficult for me.

What she didn't know at the time was that I would have preferred a thousand people's heads bombarding me with thoughts over Uncle Bartlett's single perverted mind. But I'd been afraid to speak up. The first time he'd asked me to sit on his lap and have some "special time" with him, he'd told me that Gran would make me leave if I told her about our "special hugs." I was too young to know better, so I just tried to hide from him when I could.

Jason and Gran had been gone to the movies for three hours, but it had seemed like a lot longer. Uncle Bartlett had searched for me relentlessly—his mind thinking horrible things that I didn't fully understand. He'd even come up to the attic, but I'd hidden carefully. Still—he'd been about to discover my hiding place. However, the loose floorboard had saved me. Just as he was wondering if I might be under the old tarp which I'd used to conceal myself, he tripped over the edge of the floorboard and hit his head on a beam. He'd broken his toe and required five stitches in his forehead because of the loose board, and he'd never come to the attic to search for me again.

After I'd returned to the house following the Maenad's demise, I'd moved the few treasures that I could salvage to my old hiding place. It was my own version of a cubby, though it certainly wasn't anything like Eric's.

I smiled as I pulled out the tin box I'd put into the hidey hole as a kid. In it were little trinkets for the most part, but there were some items that I'd held onto as important pieces of myself. On the day that she'd befriended me, Tara had given me a tootsie roll. Jason had given me a handmade card on the first birthday I'd had following our parents' death. In it, he'd written that he was going to look out for me for them. The carefully folded tootsie roll wrapper and the messily-written card were both well-preserved in the box.

I'd once asked Gran for a set of Lisa Frank stickers at Wal-Mart because all the other kids had them on their binders. But—as soon as I'd heard Gran's head thinking about how she'd have to go without a new housedress if she bought the pricey stickers for me—I'd lied and told her that they weren't actually the ones I wanted after all. Two months later, they'd been in my Christmas stocking—though Gran's head held the same information I'd learned from my parents' thoughts several years earlier. There was no such thing as Santa Claus—at least not for a telepath. So that Gran would know that I loved the gift, I'd placed one of the stickers prominently on the front cover of my notebook, but I had kept the others pristine in order to remind myself of the things that Gran would sacrifice for me if I wasn't more careful. Those vividly colored stickers—depicting unicorns and rainbows—were in the box too.

I set the tin aside and brought out the small box I'd put into the hiding place two days after I'd reoccupied my home. It had still been a mess because of Maryann's debauchery—a mess that I'd blamed myself for. I'd been so ashamed that Gran's house had been defiled on my watch.

I'd painstakingly sifted through the wreckage, unwilling to let Bill speed through the house with large Hefty bags. I'd been too afraid that something more would be lost. In the rubble, I'd hit pay dirt! I'd found Gran's favorite necklace, I single pearl on a delicate gold chain. Grandpa Earl had given it to her on their wedding day, according to Gran. I'd discovered it in a pile of shredded clothes and dirt and dead plants. I'd cleaned the item carefully.

Along with the necklace, I'd found a few unbroken knickknacks and some unsoiled lace handkerchiefs which Gran had loved. When I'd salvaged all that I could, I'd packed and hidden what little remained of my grandmother's treasures.

However, I wasn't after any of Gran's items; those things wouldn't do Eric any good. I was after something I'd held onto from Dallas. I pulled the item out of the box and looked at it through the large Ziploc bag I'd stored it in. Then I reclosed the box of Gran's things and put it and the tin back into their hiding places before replacing the loose slat and sliding the packing boxes back into place. Somehow I felt better knowing that no Maenad or fairy or Were would be able to get to Gran's few remaining treasures; I mean—if Eric had missed the loose floorboard, I figured that it was the most concealed place in the house!

Of course, Gran no longer needed her things, but I felt better nonetheless. Whether or not the house was in my name, this would always be Gran's home to me. And even when I was dead and gone, I hoped that those few pieces from Gran's life would remain there.

I walked back down to my room, hugging the item I'd collected to my chest and wishing it were Eric. I wanted to comfort him, to carry a part of his burden as he grieved.

That thought led me back to Arlene. I'd called the Bellefleur house as soon as I'd gotten home. According to Holly, Arlene had passed out from emotional exhaustion and too much liquor. Holly had promised me that she was looking after Andy, and Lala had promised that he wouldn't let Andy drink. I'd let them know that I'd be over first thing in the morning with breakfast.

I felt hot tears falling down my cheeks for Terry and, especially, for Arlene. She had lost her husband, and her children had lost their father. It was strange; Terry hadn't fathered Lisa or Coby, and he wasn't even Mikey's biological father. Of course, I'd not shared that knowledge, which I'd inadvertently learned from Arlene's head, with anyone else—despite the fact that Terry had also intuited the truth about Mikey's parentage. But biology didn't matter to Terry—not at all. He had been those kids' father by love—not by blood.

_Not by blood. _

Terry and Arlene and their kids had proven that love could be stronger than blood, but I wondered if that could be possible for me too.

God help me—I still felt love for Bill. I felt it with every trip my traitorous blood made through my heart. And that was the problem. My blood seemed to be in constant disagreement with my head and my heart.

Did I love Warlow? No. At least I had that going for me—even though I'd taken his blood and given him mine. Come to think of it, maybe I'd been trying to prove something to myself when I'd drunk from him. Maybe I was stubbornly trying to show that my will was stronger than Warlow's ancient blood. Whatever the fuck that meant!

I sighed in frustration. "Not your smartest move ever, Sookie," I berated myself out loud.

Of course, it was difficult for a mostly-human to win when blood and vampires were involved. And sex with a vampire almost always seemed to come with repercussions—at least when I was the one having it.

I had been so lonely—so fucking virginal—when I'd first had sex with Bill. He'd used our "love-making"—as he'd called it—to wrap me tightly around his finger. And I won't lie. After Gran was gone, I had been looking for someone to take over—to take care of me. I'd just inadvertently picked the queen's procurer.

Bill had insisted that he'd fallen in love with me during that time. Moreover—after I'd returned from the fairy realm—he'd claimed that he even killed the queen to protect me. But that particular act of "making things up to me" had come _after_ Eric had exposed Bill's duplicity. Would've Bill killed the queen otherwise? Would've he taken me to her? Or would've he tried to keep us on the same path we'd been on, which—let's face it—had been based on lies.

I laid the bundle in my hands carefully on my bed and then went to the closet to look for something black to wear. The Maenad had destroyed most of my clothes, but when Eric had fixed the house, he'd "fixed" my wardrobe too. Everything he'd chosen had fit so far; therefore, I had no doubt that the knee length basic black dress that I pulled out would fit me too. It was chilly outside, so I also grabbed a black blazer. I sighed, knowing that I'd be putting both items to use over the next few days.

Of course, the dress I'd worn to Gran's funeral was long gone; it had been yet another casualty of Maryann's "visit." The new dress was reminiscent of one Gran used to have—probably something from the 1960s. It was form-fitting but classic—very Jackie O.

I smiled to myself, thinking of all the times I'd dug through Gran's old clothes playing dress up. My smile faded when I thought about the last time I'd worn one of Gran's garments. I'd dressed in a "virginal" white nightgown and robe set that Gran had kept in the bottom drawer of her dresser. And wearing that garment, I'd hightailed it over to Bill's house and "offered" myself to him the night after Gran had been laid to rest.

Losing my virginity was yet another moment about blood. Not only had I bled as Bill had thrust into me for the first time, as well as when he'd drunk from me, but also I had been trying to forget Gran's blood—the blood I'd had to scrub from the kitchen floor.

Yes—the moment I'd given up my virginity had been about blood in almost every conceivable way.

I wasn't into revising history, so I wouldn't lie and say that I didn't like having sex with Bill. I did—though sometimes it had scared me! Having a dirt-covered Bill crawl out of the ground and practically devour me in the graveyard had scared me. Seeing my blood pool in the bottom of the shower when Bill got a little over-zealous with his feeding had scared me. Even now I shook a little whenever I thought of that particular time with Bill. To make that moment even freakier, it had occurred just a couple of days after Bill had almost drained me in the back of that van. After that incident, he'd rushed to the hospital to feed me his blood. I had been grateful that he'd saved me, but I'd also been further messed up by the influence of more of Bill's blood in me.

Looking back, I realized that I'd fought the power of that blood as much as I'd been able to. Even as I'd lain hooked up to various machines in the hospital, I'd told Bill goodbye—meaning it with my whole head and my whole heart. Of course, a couple of days later—when he'd come to help me with my little "Were problem"—my fucking blood had taken over again.

Bill and my "reunion" sex had been almost violent. It had ended with us in the shower, a claustrophobic space—just like the van. But I'd stifled my apprehension by detaching myself from the scene and studying the blood as it flowed down the drain. It had reminded me of that scene from _Psycho_—except my blood was real and red.

Of course, our "make-up sex" had just been the appetizer for more lies. Not ten minutes after our shower, Bill had lied about the file of information he'd gotten on me, blaming Eric and _his_ interest in me for its existence. I hadn't even questioned Bill further!

I sighed. _Why_ hadn't I asked the logical questions at the time? Had it been the influence of Bill's blood? Had it been the fact that Eric had said he didn't care about me while we were in Russell's mansion?

I forcefully pulled my new black dress off of its hanger and angrily grabbed some fresh underwear.

"Stupid Bill and his stupid lies!" I ranted aloud. "And then after he lied, I had to help him clean up a dead—and naked—Were from my living room floor! Come to think of it—why did he need me to help him lift that Were at all?" I shivered at the thought of hoisting the dead man's legs. "At least when Eric killed a Were on my floor, he had the decency to pick him up without my having to help!" I said, finishing my raving. I looked around as if someone might pop out of nowhere and agree with me.

I sighed, wishing that that someone could be Niall. I said a quick prayer that I would be able to figure out a way to get him back to this realm. I decided that I would ask Holly about it the next morning. She seemed "in the know" about a lot of magical things. Maybe she could help.

I also made a mental note to talk to her about the witchy version of the morning-after-pill that I knew she'd given to people before. Though I was not at a "dangerous" point in my cycle and I'd been on birth control pills since I was seventeen to alleviate the severe menstrual cramps I tended to have, I didn't want to take any chances that Warlow's swimmers had "survived" his transition to vampire just as his ability to exist in the sunlight had.

I couldn't fathom how sperm could survive for over 5,000 years, but with my luck, they'd probably been preserved in some kind of magical stasis—just waiting for my unsuspecting fairy eggs. And I'd rather to be safe than sorry—thank you very much! I sighed. Yes. Having sex with Warlow had been a mistake in many ways.

I bit back my bitterness. What good would regret do me now? I needed to move on and to try to make better decisions as I did.

I went to the bathroom and stripped out of my clothes. As I thought about how I'd taken them off a few hours before with Warlow, I threw them into the trashcan. They didn't even have blood on them, but they felt like they did.

I turned on the water—knowingly making it hotter than would be comfortable. But what had Gran always said about boiling things? That it killed all the germs?

I was anxious to get clean. I was anxious to _feel_ clean.

As I scrubbed myself, my anger and my confusion welled up again. I'd felt a connection with Ben the fairy. And Warlow the vampire had saved my life.

But having sex with him had been the equivalent to sleeping with Bill after Gran's funeral—idiotic! I shook my head, knowing that my actions had been fueled by grief and desperation. I once more recalled what it had felt like to discover that my own father—and by association my mother—had tried to throw me off a bridge and kill me. And—once more unable to process my heartache in a "non-self-destructive" way—I'd had sex with _another_ vampire who wanted to possess me.

"Can't you fucking learn, Stackhouse?" I asked myself aloud as I lathered up the washrag for a third time.

Hell—when I really thought about it, it was difficult to see much of a difference between the Bill and Warlow situations. Both had come to Bon Temps to hunt me—to take me away from my friends and what little family I had left. Both had lied about who they were and what they wanted from me. Both had _conveniently_ glossed over their motives when they'd proclaimed they "loved" me.

And—with both—I'd reacted the same way: foolishly. I'd felt an immediate attraction to them—a connection to the "otherness" in them. Therefore, I _hadn't_ asked the important questions.

Yep. It was official. I'd learned nothing!

What did people say about history repeating itself?

I relished the uncomfortably hot water of the shower, thankful that it was practically scalding me. Self-punishment—after I'd fucked up yet again—seemed like an awesome solution right about now.

After I'd scrubbed my body for a fourth time, I reached out and grabbed the shampoo, which was on a perfectly placed built-in shelf that hadn't been there until Eric renovated and restored the house. In fact, all of the items in the bathroom—shower and tub included—were new, and the pipes no longer moaned when conveying hot water.

An errant tear slipped from my eye as I put the shampoo back. Even through the steam of the shower, that tear felt hot.

Eric was the _only_ man who'd ever had sex with me who didn't have a selfish motive driving his actions. Of course, he'd been without his memories at the time. Maybe that was why I was so scared of him now that he had his memories back.

Maybe I was frightened that being with a "whole" Eric would devolve into something like the Bill debacle or the Warlow situation. And if that happened, I wasn't sure I could survive it.

I'd been hurt enough to know that there were some wounds that cut too deep to ever heal properly.

I groaned loudly—my loss, my pain, and my frustration all warring for dominion in my head.

Finally, I my brain settled on another emotion altogether: a strange sense of hope in the middle of a sea of hopelessness. It was an odd feeling to say the least.

I sighed.

Eric would never forget the girl in the white dress. And I would never forget the vampire without his memories.

But were either of those people even real? Had they ever been?

Or were they the most "real" people in my crazy life? Somehow, they sure seemed to be. When I thought about my life and looked for the best part of it, that time with Eric was the first thing that came to my mind. And that time was amidst witches' curses and execution orders! I couldn't help but to wonder what things might be like between us if we could just be "normal"—or, at least, as normal as a thousand-year-old Viking vampire and a human-fairy telepathic barmaid could be. Or maybe "normal" was overrated.

I closed my eyes as I rinsed shampoo #2 from my hair.

My hearing had gotten much better—as in _supernaturally_ better—since I'd begun "using" my fairy spark. Therefore, I'd heard Nora and Eric speaking on my porch after I'd rescinded his invitation. Nora had practically accused Eric of loving me—as if it were some kind of sinful joke. He'd reacted in a way that had surprised me, saying words that I'd remember until the day I died. Instead of denying that he could love, as he'd done in Dallas, he'd said three words that meant everything to me: "In another life."

Yes. In _another_ life, Eric and I could be happy: him with the girl in the white dress and me with the vampire with no memories.

How fucked up was that? And how fucked up was it that I _wanted_ that? _Wished_ for it?

"But that just can't fucking happen," I whispered aloud as another tear slipped down my cheek.

"Sorry, Gran," I apologized into the shower stream—once more recognizing that she'd disapprove of my "potty mouth." Then again, I was an adult, so I figured the occasional expletive was okay—when called for.

I sighed. I hadn't particularly liked Nora, but she had pointed out one of the inherent problems when a vampire felt anything resembling love, especially for someone "breakable" like me. I was Eric's weakness, and though he'd easily gotten her not to "stir the pot"—because she'd so clearly loved him—he couldn't do that with the whole vampire population, let alone all the humans, Weres, fairies, witches, etc., that were sure to threaten me now that I seemed to attract danger like the North Pole attracted magnets.

I closed my eyes and said a little prayer for Nora. Whether I liked her or not, she'd been loyal to Eric, and she'd loved him without placing conditions on that love. I couldn't say the same.

"I guess I like you after all, Nora," I said to the bottle of conditioner in my hand. "You were good to him—better than I've ever been." I sighed. "I wish I would have gotten to know you," I continued aloud, going for broke when it came to my _crazy_ out-loud ramblings. "I would have liked to have talked with you about Godric," I said, whispering Nora and Eric's maker's name. "I'd talk about him with Eric, but," I paused and smiled a little, "well—you know how he is."

As I conditioned my hair, my mind drifted to the moment when Bill had waltzed into the Bellefleur mansion—in broad daylight! It had been quite the sight to say the least!

In the past, I had dreamed about enjoying the daylight with Bill, but as I stepped out of the house with him, it had been anything but enjoyable. He'd told me that if he didn't get Warlow back—specifically his blood—then a lot of vampires I cared about would die. Eric, Pam, Tara, Jessica—all burning in the sun.

And—of course—Bill had laid the blame on _my_ shoulders if I didn't serve Warlow up on a silver platter. I sighed. Bill really was an expert when it came to blaming others: the queen, Eric, Lorena, Russell, Lilith, the vampire authority.

Of course, I was guilty of plenty of sins, so I wasn't going to cast the first stone.

After my conversation with Bill, I'd obediently walked back into the Bellefleur house and given Arlene a hug, promising to be back later. And then I'd driven back to the cemetery; it hadn't surprised me when Bill tagged along.

Before we got out of the car, Bill told me that he'd be waiting at his home, ready to "call" Warlow as soon as he was returned to the human realm.

Without hesitation, I'd used my light and popped back to the "limbo" or "staging area" where I'd left Warlow.

Of course, Warlow had immediately smelled Bill on me, and his fangs had dropped in that "wonderful," possessive way vampires have when they pronounce that word I've come to distrust more than any other: "Mine."

Ignoring Warlow's jealousy-driven claim of ownership, I'd told him _why_ I smelled like Bill and what he had said concerning the threat to my friends. Maybe I'd hoped that Warlow would agree to help just because people I loved had been threatened. Maybe—if he had—I would have thought about giving a relationship with him a chance. After all, when he was "Ben," he was pretty wonderful. And he could offer me the chance to be with someone who could function in my world—both the day and the night of it.

But he _hadn't_ offered to help.

And—once again—I realized that in seeking something "normal," I was denying myself something that I knew for a fact could be damned near perfect. I shook my head in frustration.

It turned out that Warlow had already known that other vampires were in danger. Hell—to try to inspire Warlow's cooperation, Bill had even told him that the threatened vampires included my oldest friend Tara!

However, Warlow was not keen on helping vampires—no matter who they were. And that's when I'd first realized that being with Warlow really was like jumping into a time machine and going back to hang out with Bill before he'd become Billith. It seemed that Warlow hated himself—hated the vampire within. Bill had been the same brooding figure.

Of course, I could understand their attitude. After all, I'd spent years hating the telepath in me. And then I'd hated the fairy, even going so far as to try to shoot all my power from my fingers—so that I could run out of magic. Yes—self-loathing was a bitch.

And I was just as guilty of it as Warlow and Bill. I can't say that my self-loathing had ever led me to lose control and take out an entire club full of fairies. Nor have I ever drunk the blood of a "god" in order to try to change myself. However, I'd wished that I was "normal" more times than I could count.

Maybe that's why being around Eric—both incarnations of him—was so damned refreshing at times. There was zero self-loathing in him. He didn't do something cruel and then blame "his nature" for it. Eric—for better or worse—owned his actions.

Every. Single. One.

He didn't hate the vampire he was.

Maybe—in a screwed up way—that's why I'd rescinded Eric's invitation. He seemed to recognize that I hated myself—that I wanted to find a self "pre-vampire" that I could love. Of course, if I were telling myself the truth, there wasn't really someone like that. The only time I'd ever been truly content "pre-vampire" had been when I was with Gran—helping her take care of her home or garden. I'd felt useful and unjudged. But Gran was gone, so I couldn't get that feeling back—no matter what I did or how hard I tried to deny my true nature.

Slinging beers at Merlotte's wasn't the most personally satisfying thing in the world either. I liked my co-workers, though they went back and forth in their affection for and acceptance of me. Of course, I didn't blame them for that.

I sighed. Eric _hadn't_ stopped caring for me, not even when I'd rejected him. Meanwhile, I'd been trying so hard to forget about my feelings for him that I'd pretended that they were never real in the first place.

No wonder Nora had wanted to drain me! Right about now, I'd be willing to hook up a mainline to my vein and help her do just that—if it could bring her back into Eric's life. He deserved someone who would appreciate him. God knows, I hadn't done that enough.

I sighed. Instead of pushing himself on me—as Bill had been prone to do in the past when we'd "broken up"—Eric had respected my wishes. The other night—when I'd rescinded his invitation—he'd understood what I was trying to do, and it was against "his nature" to stand in my way.

I'd told him I wanted to be the girl in the white dress, and he'd respected that choice enough to go. That said a lot about his character.

It also told me that he still loved me.

Instead of being bitter and angry that I'd sent him away, he'd informed Nora that they were going to stay away from me and not use me against Bill—not that the "new" version of Bill would have cared anyway.

For the thousandth time that day, I sighed.

There was a reason why Ben/Warlow had heard me thinking about only my failed love attempts with Bill when he'd first crept into my mind. There was a reason why I didn't lump Eric in with those failures. And it _wasn't_ because I didn't love Eric.

Although I had, at the time, felt strongly that I couldn't be with Eric, I did—I _do_—love him. Thus, I wasn't thinking about him in the same stream of thoughts as I had been thinking about Bill because I didn't consider what I had with Eric to be a failure. I wasn't sure what it was. But it _wasn't_ that.

Eric was right. It was a love that _could_ have been perfect—"in another life."

But I was stuck in the life that I was in. And in that one, Warlow had shown no compassion when I'd asked him to come back with me to help Bill find a way to save four individuals who I deeply cared for. On the contrary, he'd flat-out refused, citing the "fact" that vampires were "abominations" and should be expelled from the earth.

Of course, he hadn't bunched himself in with "normal" vampires. Nope—in that moment, he was claiming to be _Ben_, the nice, benevolent, save-your-life fairy.

Two seconds later had come the blackmail. For once, I hadn't been surprised by it.

Warlow had promised that he would return and help—but only if I agreed to "be his for eternity." I realized then that those pretty words about tearing up the scroll that had basically sold me to him were subterfuge, machinations designed to soften my heart.

Trying to manipulate me, Warlow's true colors had shined just as brightly as Bill's when he'd paid the Rattrays to beat me up to "soften my heart" toward him.

It seemed that the "honorable," self-loathing Warlow had no compunction about basing our "eternity together" on blackmail.

And for a moment—a brief one—I'd almost taken him up on his offer. I'd almost agreed to his "claim" over me in order to save my friends' lives.

How many times had I run into a crappy situation without thinking it through first? And how many times had that turned out well?

As Warlow had continued trying to convince me that being with him would be blissful _and_ it would allow me to save my friends as well, I shut out his voice and the niggling influence he was trying to have over me. Instead, thoughts of Eric had popped into my head, and I remembered how he'd once told me that my life was "too valuable to throw away." He'd also told me not to underestimate myself. No one had ever said anything even remotely like that to me before.

I remembered the tears that had come into my eyes when he'd said those words. Or maybe it was the intensity and the belief—the belief in me—that had been in his voice that had caused my tears. I wasn't sure.

But it was then—even as he'd walked away from me so that I couldn't see the emotion in his eyes—that I knew Eric Northman cared about me. And I knew that I trusted him.

Of course, his using me to entrap Russell—after kissing me and then chaining me up in his dungeon—was enough to test that trust. And his pulling out all that, "You are mine," shit after I'd gotten back from the fairy realm was enough to try my fucking patience! But when I'd seen him on that road—alone and shirtless—I'd helped him because I trusted and cared for him.

I could admit that Eric pissed me off—a lot—sometimes. He'd glamoured Alcide to think that I was gross for God's sake! And the, "Please, Sookie, suck a bullet out of me so that I won't die of silver poisoning," episode still chapped my hide.

But when it _really_ mattered, Eric didn't lie to me. He didn't always volunteer the full truth, but he usually came through with enough of it. Yes. I trusted him to save my life when I was in trouble. Hell—he'd even tried to save the piece of my heart that would always belong to the Bill I "thought" I'd fallen in love with—a Bill that may have never existed at all. Still—Eric had tried to help me to save Bill from the influence of Lilith even though his own past with him was "complicated."

Of course, despite the fact that I was willing to trust Eric with everything else, _blood_ prevented my trusting him in the area of love.

Maybe I just wasn't cut out for that emotion.

Regardless, it was Eric's voice in my head that had given me the courage to tell Warlow that there would be _no_ deals between us. I was NOT going to allow the fairy-vampire to manipulate me into some eternal, shitty deal—not when_ I_ was actually the one with the power. Eric had been right. I was "too valuable to throw away." Every life was valuable—whether that life belonged to a several-hundred-year-old vampire I didn't personally like or an Iraq War veteran whom I loved like family.

It's just that I had never believed in my own value before, which was probably why I tended to make shitty decisions.

However, thanks to Eric's voice in my head, I'd stopped myself _before_ I agreed to be Warlow's "mate." Instead, I'd simply "popped" us back to the human realm and let Billith take over the rest of the operation. It didn't take him but a second to figure out that Warlow was back in the neighborhood, and then—whoosh—Warlow was gone in a flash to answer his "maker's" call.

After that, I knew that Bill could command Warlow to do what needed to be done to save the others. And it was certainly a bonus that Bill had agreed to command him to destroy the contract which had said I was Warlow's property.

I smiled. Having thought things through, I felt a little wiser than I'd felt the day before. I felt a little stronger. I was proud that I hadn't allowed myself to be manipulated by Warlow.

Maybe I was finally learning that a little self-preservation could go a long way. Maybe I was finally learning that "normal" was neither possible nor preferable to the life I could make for myself if I just accepted who and what I was.

However, despite my revelations, my heart still ached.

I turned off the water and then dried my body before wrapping a towel around my hair. When I looked in the mirror, I noticed that my skin had been reddened by the heat of the water. I also noticed something about my eyes.

They conveyed certainty and confidence. And I realized that amidst all my musing, I'd made a choice.

I just hoped that I hadn't made it too late.

* * *

**A/N: I continue to be floored by the response that this story is getting! Wowsa! I am so grateful for all of you who are reading, "favoriting," and commenting on this story. **

**I know that I've dwelled on Sookie's inner musings for a while now, but I "needed" to in order to make sense of some things. I also needed to give her the **_**opportunity**_** to think because I wanted the actions that follow to seem well-thought-out and realistic. **

**In the next chapter, we will move out of Sookie's brain and into Eric's—which is the POV I love to write from the most! **

**Remember that since I'm posting this without taking it through my usual fine-tooth-comb editing process (where I revise something about 3 times and copy edit it twice before sharing it), some typos might slip through. I'm fine if you want to let me know about errors in responses or PM's. (For instance, I caught an "of" when I meant "or" the other day.) I'm making a list and will fix things all at once after the story is complete. But—please—don't be offended if you never see your suggested change. Sometimes, people tell me to fix stuff that I don't think is broken—like an intentional fragment or a neologism like "dumbassery." If it's not a real typo, I probably won't touch it.**

**Again, thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Even though I'm not responding to all reviews as I do for my other stories (since I'm literally going to start working on the next chapter as soon as I post this), I LOVE reading your comments, and I'm so grateful for them. **

**Cheers,**

**Kat**

**P.S. I'm betting that a lot of you have figured out what is in that Ziploc bag by now. ;)**


	4. Chapter 4: The Mortal Coil

**A/N: Needless to say, we are ignoring last Sunday's episode. ;)**

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Mortal Coil**

_Eric's POV_

A vampire's mind could click through a hundred thoughts at once—_if_ the vampire practiced, that is. Godric had made me practice _a lot_ during my early years with him.

Moves and countermoves. Strategies and counterstrategies. Schemes and counter-schemes.

Thinking in this way had kept me alive for a thousand years. But times were changing, and staying alive was becoming more and more difficult.

I sighed and then berated myself for the action. Sighing was such a human thing to do, and I felt decidedly inhuman in that moment. Plus, it was unnecessary for vampires. In fact, the only reason we needed to take air into our bodies at all was to produce speech. And a sigh was certainly not a word of any use.

Even as I had been washing the blood from my body, I had been contemplating ways to infiltrate the so-called "Vamp-Camp." Sadly, Governor Burrell was no more; however, there were many humans there who would meet the sharp end of my fangs or sword.

And—this time—my vengeance over the death of a family member wouldn't take a thousand years to come to fruition. My judgment would be swift, and my enemies _would_ fall just as swiftly. Anyone who had helped to conceive or develop Hepatitis V would die. All those who had devised what was essentially a vampire Concentration Camp would also perish.

Before I was done, I intended to blow the new TruBlood factory to hell—along with Vamp-Camp. And I had just the explosives in mind for the job. Dynamite _really_ was the best choice—a classic, really. And I happened to keep a stockpile handy. I liked dynamite because it wouldn't completely obliterate a target—like the newer, "more-efficient" kinds of explosives. Instead, it would leave a twisted and gnarled mess—a clear warning to anyone who might try to fuck with vampires in the same way again. Moreover, the authorities would find pieces—though mangled—of both bodies and evidence. Therefore, the truth about what had been going on in there _would_ come out.

I quickly dried myself off and dressed in the clothing Bill had managed to find for me.

"Once a procurer, always a procurer," I chuckled to myself.

The pants were a little too short and a bit tight in the crotch area, but they'd do. I tucked them into my boots—just in case I saw Pam before all hell broke loose. Of course, if she were still in the Vamp-Camp standard jumpsuit, she'd be in no position to criticize me for my "high waters"—but such things had never stopped her before.

I buttoned the last button of my shirt and waited for the sun to go down. I'd been forced to stay animated during most of my days at Vamp Camp; moreover, I'd stayed awake to sit vigil over Nora. Luckily, Bill had been able to supply me with some fresh blood, however, and I felt my strength building up again, even as the sun was waning. Finally, it went down, and—no longer having to fight the sun's pull—my body relaxed a little,

Although my rancor was intense and I wanted to rush into the Vamp-Camp like a Viking berserker of old, I restrained myself. I compartmentalized my anger as Godric had taught me to do centuries before. After all, I had one last tribute to pay to my sister before I annihilated the bastards responsible for her death. And I had a promise to keep to Bill, for—even though his blood had failed to save Nora—he _had_ tried, just as I'd asked. I was still agitated that Warlow hadn't been there in time to make an attempt to save her with his blood, but I was beginning to accept the fact that he would have been unable to help Nora.

Despite this "cooling" of my furiousness regarding Bill and Sookie's new boy-toy in regards to Nora's death, however, my blood boiled as I remembered picking up Warlow's scent on and in Sookie. I allowed one part of my head to contemplate why the fledgling bond Sookie and I had begun was still present in her—despite the fact that she'd drunk an older vampire's blood.

However, most of my supple mind was still bent upon figuring out the best way to quickly and summarily destroy my human enemies, though the occasional fantasy of torturing each and every one of them for years fluttered into my mind. Perhaps the Newlins—both the vampire traitor and his human ex-wife—would serve as adequate vessels for the perpetual pain I craved to inflict.

I closed my eyes for a moment, cautioning the monster within to be patient. Revenge would be sweeter if it were well-planned and eliminated _all_ enemies and potential threats. It would also be sweeter if my progenies were alive at the end of it and if I were still undead to enjoy the victory.

And that meant that I needed to keep a level head and not get caught up in fantasies of torturing my foes—at least not yet.

Moves and countermoves. Strategies and counterstrategies. Schemes and counter-schemes.

Life or death. Escape or imprisonment. Victory or defeat.

I walked slowly back into the bedroom Nora and I had been using. I'd wrapped up my sister's remains in the blanket she'd died upon, her once beautiful body torn apart by the disease that had finally claimed her. It was ironic that the Black Plague had not been able to do the job, but another disease—hundreds of years later—gave her a similar fate to what her human self would have suffered if I had not found her.

I gathered the blanket into my arms, trying to ignore the fact that what was left of my sister did not feel like a body at all.

As I walked down the stairs, Bill stepped into his foyer.

"You will be needed to fulfill my plan," he said—his tone conveying that "superior" manner he'd always had around me. At least now that he was "godd_ish_," he was justified in taking the tone; before, it had just been annoying.

I nodded. "I will return here after she has been interred. And then I will _listen_ to your plan, and _I _will decide whether to follow it or my own. In either case, I will be going back to that camp very soon," I vowed, my tone sounding ominous even to my own ears.

"We had an agreement, Eric. I will not allow you to break it," Bill said evenly.

"Your blood did not save her," I reminded.

"But I tried."

"Trying is not doing," I answered coldly. "But—as I said—I will return and listen to what you propose. If it is worthy, I will help you. If it is not worthy, then you are not worth my help."

Bill looked at the bundle in my arms and then back into my eyes. God or no god, he wasn't going to stop me from seeing my sister off to _her_ god.

Luckily for both of us, he didn't try.

I left his mansion at a slow pace—a human pace—not quite ready to say goodbye to the being who had been such a large part of my existence for so many years. My grief seemed to be lodged in my throat, choking and hot.

Within the brief span of two years' time, I'd lost Godric and now Nora. And the pain seemed too much to bear or even to comprehend—even for a brain that had been trained to process many things all at once.

I inhaled deeply, my active thoughts moving to Sookie as I smelled her. She was next to her Gran's grave—waiting for me, I suppose. In truth, I didn't know whether I was happy or angry that she was there.

Where she was concerned, my feelings were often unsettled and unsettling, and I wasn't about to let them interfere with what needed to be done.

Therefore, my anger won out as I approached. "What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked accusingly—harshly.

She turned around, and though it was cloudy and dark, she emitted a light from her very pores. She was beautiful.

But—then again—she had always been a beacon to me. A _literal_ light—not a figurative one. To my eyes, she was illuminated by a soft glow at all times. Her "light" was something I'd always seen—though Godric and later Nora had told me that they did not see it. They could discern that Sookie was something "other" by looking at her, but neither of them saw what I did. However, neither of them thought I was crazy either; we'd all witnessed the unexplained and the unexplainable in life. And the luminosity that I saw when I looked at Sookie was just added to the list of those things.

I'd never asked Bill if he saw it too—never trusted him enough to ask him. If he did, then the light would no longer be just "mine." And—if he didn't see it—then his already-mounting insecurity regarding my interest in Sookie would have grown even more quickly, making him a bigger obstacle and potentially more harmful to Sookie.

I'd also refrained from checking with Pam, knowing that she would have volunteered the information if she'd seen Sookie's "light" as I had; plus, I was not anxious for Pam to have yet another reason to be jealous of Sookie. And Pam _had_ been resentful of her—especially since the Dallas trip. My child was intensely annoyed by my fascination with Sookie, and—through our vampire-child bond—I could tell that jealousy was at the root of Pam's disdain. I didn't blame my child. I had been jealous of Nora and Godric's closeness once upon a time. It was the way of all vampires when it came to their makers. A vampire child always wanted to be "first"—to feel as if he or she ranked number one in his or her maker's affections. Thus, when a new child was made or when a tie with a human was created, any previous vampire child would feel a sting. However, that jealousy would pass—hopefully before anyone met the true death.

From the first moment I saw Sookie—saw her "light"—I had studied every vampire's initial reaction to her. And—though they all were clearly attracted by her sweet scent—no other vampires seemed to notice her "light." So I had begun to think of it as _only_ for me. And that "light" was just one of the reasons why I had wanted Sookie Stackhouse to be mine in every way imaginable.

I'd never told Sookie about her "light." I almost had—the night she'd come to Fangtasia to ask about Werewolves—but I'd managed to stop myself.

I refrained from sighing as I took in her appearance. Sookie was wearing black, the traditional mourning color for humans in America. I recognized the dress. I'd picked it to accentuate her curves and to cater to her modesty. She looked as lovely in it as I'd known she would, though I wished that she was not wearing the blazer over it. I missed seeing her smooth shoulders. However, there was a cool wind, so I couldn't really begrudge her for her need to stay warm. Sookie's hair was pulled into a simple bun—a conservative style that suited the outfit and the somber occasion.

"What are you doing here?" I asked again, though my tone had lost some of its rancor.

She stepped forward a little, but there was still about ten feet separating us. "I'll leave if you want," she said softly. "But I have something for you," she added, gesturing toward a bundle that was resting on her grandmother's gravestone. "And I wanted to tell Gran a little about Nora—just in case you decided to take me up on the offer to let her rest here."

My curiosity was piqued—because of both her words and the certainty in her eyes. Her brown eyes shone with a richness and a clarity I'd never seen in them before. I'd always found them captivating, though they'd infuriated me so many times as they'd displayed her ambivalent feelings for me. Tonight, however, the feelings emanating from them were not mixed. I looked closely for pity, knowing that I'd be furious if I saw that emotion from her. However, there was none; something else was shining from her orbs—something that looked like acceptance.

I "listened" to my blood inside of her. It confirmed the emotions gleaming from her eyes. There was acceptance there. But I felt something _more_ too—something I needed to ignore for the time being.

Instead of commenting on what I saw and felt from her, I decided to speak of what she'd said. "What did you tell your grandmother about Nora?" I asked curiously.

Sookie's lips turned up into a sheepish smile. "That she didn't like me much. And," she paused, "that I didn't like her much either."

I couldn't help but to chuckle a little at her honesty. "What else?"

"That she always seemed to want to eat me."

"That she did," I admitted with another chuckle. "You _do_ smell delicious."

I knew that only Sookie—_only_ she—had the ability to make me feel "lighter" in a moment like the one I was living through. And that—more than anything—was why I loved her. Perhaps there were other people that I "should" have fallen in love with—Nora or Pam or even Willa, who'd already proven herself worthy of being a vampire. But love—at least of the romantic variety—was something that I'd only recently admitted that I could feel. And I hadn't even begun to try to explain it. I had simply been adapting to it—as I had adapted to all new things over the years.

Of course, there were some growing pains involved in that adaptation; specifically, part of me wanted to kill Sookie, but from what I'd learned so far about the topic of romantic love, that reaction was quite normal—_human_ even. It seemed that the old cliché about there being a thin line between love and hate was quite true.

Sookie chuckled. "Yeah—I kind of figured that Nora wasn't my biggest fan. And she _did_ look at me like I was a giant T-bone. Um—do I smell different than before? Stronger?"

I nodded in confirmation. "Yes. A little. You should be careful—especially around younger vampires—at least until the blood shortage has passed."

"Okay," she said. "And thank you."

I nodded.

She looked at me just as she had the night she'd comforted me after my "night-vision" of Godric. There had been no pity in her expression that night either—just a kind of understanding.

She took a deep breath. "I also told Gran that Nora was fiercely loyal and devoted to you—that she seemed like a good friend and sister to you."

"She was," I said in a whisper. "She was _more_ than that to me."

"You loved her," she observed.

I nodded. "As much as I was capable," I confirmed, not feeling the need to deny what I felt to Sookie anymore. "I was the one who took her to Godric. She was dying of the plague, and I asked him to turn her."

"Why didn't you just turn her?" Sookie questioned.

"I've asked myself that same question many times over the years," I shared. "I was captivated by Nora's courage, and I could tell that she was beautiful, even though she was being ravaged by her disease. And I was certainly old enough to be a maker when I found her, but I just didn't feel compelled to be her creator." I laughed a little. "Actually, I've never felt compelled to make a vampire child."

"Pam?" she asked.

"Pam was a madam at a brothel. She learned what I was, but showed no fear of me. One night after we'd had sex, she slit her wrists and forced my hand."

"So you turned her in order to save her life?"

I chuckled. "Ironic—isn't it."

"Yeah—but Pam is stubborn," Sookie said with a smirk. "I can see her doing almost anything to get what she wants."

I nodded. "And—without doubt—she has been an excellent and loyal progeny—despite the beginning." I moved forward and gently laid Nora down upon the grass next to the grave that already held the decaying body of Sookie's grandmother. There was a shovel nearby; I recognized it as being from Sookie's home.

"She wouldn't mind?" I found myself asking inexplicably as I gestured toward the grave.

"No," Sookie said. "In a strange way, Nora's family."

I felt my eyebrow shooting up in question.

Sookie shrugged. "That day in the cubby—you said that we'd be one. And if we are, then Nora is my family, just as much as Gran is yours."

I shook my head. "But you," I stopped mid-sentence, not able to finish my thought.

"I know I did," she said, seeming to know what I had been intending to say.

We stared at each other for a while, her standing on the opposite side of her grandmother's grave and me still crouching down next to Nora's remains.

I wasn't sure what to say to her. I didn't want to admit aloud just how much her multiple rejections had wounded me. I didn't want to tell her that we'd begun a blood bond in the cubby—the most sacred kind of link that vampires could make. I didn't want to tell her how much her emotions—and my own—had rattled uncomfortably through me since we'd begun that bond. And I certainly didn't want her to know that every cell in my being thirsted to complete our bond. I pushed back all those thoughts—thoughts that betrayed my vulnerability to her. Instead, I let my anger at her mixed messages flow.

"You fucked and took blood from another! And he has had your blood," I said bitterly. "I can smell his blood in you—along with Bill's and mine."

Sookie sighed loudly, though her own anger didn't flare up as I'd thought—or maybe hoped—it would. My own anger was immediately deflated a little because of her calm reaction.

"Eric," she began evenly, "when did you last make a mistake?"

I could think of a few moves I should have made differently—a few steps I should have taken to better ensure Nora's, Pam's, Willa's, and Tara's safety.

"Yesterday," I admitted. "I thought Bill could save Nora. I was even willing to entertain the notion that he was a god." I shook my head in disgust. "I told him that I _believed_ in him."

"But his blood didn't heal her," Sookie said sadly. She reached for the shovel, but stopped just short of grabbing it. "Listen—it might not mean anything to you, but Bill didn't tell me Nora was dying. He just said that he needed Warlow to try to help you, Pam, Tara, and Jessica avoid the fate in his vision. If I would have known that Nora was near death, I would have hurried—instead of," she stopped.

"Instead of?" I asked, feeling my rancor building again. "Did you feel the need to fuck him before you brought him back to this realm? Is that why he was there too late to try to save my sister?"

This time, her anger did swell, and she glared at me through narrowed eyes. That was more fucking like it!

"If you must know—I fucked him yesterday, Eric! I fucked him because my life felt like it was no longer mine, and as fucked up as it seems, I was trying to take control for once!"

"Well—how the fuck did that work out?" I yelled.

"About as well as it always does!" she yelled back. I watched as her shoulders slumped in defeat and her anger deflated.

"Sorry, Gran," she muttered under her breath as she glanced at the headstone. Before I could ask what she was sorry for, she continued speaking, though her voice was once more calm. "This morning, I left Warlow and returned here alone. I came back to comfort a friend whose husband died just yesterday. Bill found me at their home and told me about his vision of the future. He asked me to bring him Warlow, and as soon as I'd told my friend goodbye, I came back here."

"Here?" I asked, my tone also evening out.

"This cemetery is some kind of conduit to a fairy place, though it can't be the fairy world itself because there are no big time jumps. It's where I took Warlow after he saved my life yesterday."

My fury and fear spewed forth, and I found myself standing directly in front of Sookie in the blink of an eye.

To her credit, she didn't recoil at all. No wonder I was enthralled by her!

"Who tried to kill you?" I asked as icy terror shot through my veins. I had lost Godric. I had lost Nora. But I could _NOT_ lose her. I was done losing people I loved.

_DONE_!

"It's a long story," she sighed.

"Then give me the short version," I demanded.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry that it took me a day longer than intended to post this. Let's call yesterday my "disappointment day" following Sunday's **_**True Blood**_** episode, and let's just move on with this version of events—shall we? **

**Anyway, thanks again AND AGAIN for all the comments, reviews, "alerting," and "favoriting" that you are still doing for this story! I am so grateful that many of you seem to like it. You make me feel awesome!**

**Clearly, Eric has some "mixed feelings" when it comes to Sookie (and a lot of other things). But I love it when Eric is rational and not rash—when he uses that beautiful brain of his to figure out the best solution to a problem. He—like Sookie—also tries to fight his "scary" feelings. But I certainly don't want to portray the Viking as too "soft" and "sensitive." I hope I'm doing him justice. **

**FYI: The title of this chapter is from Hamlet's "To Be or Not to Be" speech. ;)**

**More EPOV up next!**

**Cheers,**

**Kat**


	5. Chapter 5: Perchance to Dream

**Chapter 5: Perchance to Dream**

_Eric POV_

"_Who tried to kill you?" I asked as icy terror shot through my veins. I had lost Godric. I had lost Nora. But I could NOT lose her. I was done losing people I loved._

_DONE!_

"_It's a long story," she sighed._

"_Then give me the short version," I demanded._

Sookie sighed. "There was this old contract signed by my ancestors. Basically, it promised the first female 'fairy-ific' child to a vampire named Warlow. It turns out that Warlow had been a fairy—a full-bloodied fairy—before he was turned. Lilith made him into a vampire, and now he's a hybrid and can go out into the daylight."

"Bill's had his blood then?" I asked. "That explains his sudden day-walking?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "At least, that's what I figure—unless Bill really is a god of some kind."

I sighed. "I don't know. But I do believe that he is having visions of the future."

"A future where you die in the sun," she said quietly and sadly.

"Yes," I responded.

"I'd tell you not to go back to that horrible place, but," she stopped for a moment. "But I know it wouldn't do any good—would it?"

In truth, it almost did. Part of me wanted to stay with her—run away with her. But I had unfinished business at that camp. "No," I answered. "My revenge is there."

"I know," she whispered.

"And," I paused, "Bill's child is there; I know she is like a sister to you. Pam and Tara are there also. And Willa."

"Willa?" she asked.

"My new child," I said, feeling an unexpected jolt of pride. Perhaps, I'd not been drawn to make Willa Burrell, but I had a feeling she'd turn out well. Had I been more compassionate, I'd have taken her virginity before I turned her, but I could smell that her hymen had already been broken, so she wouldn't suffer pain when she had sex.

"You—uh—made a new child?" Sookie asked. "Were you—uh—drawn to make her?"

I shook my head. "No—making her was part of a strategy."

"A strategy?"

"Yes. Willa was Governor's Burrell's child. I'd hoped that she might be better able to convince him to stop his crusade against vampires if she were one."

"And—if not—it would be one hell of a slap to his face," she said perceptively.

I smirked. "Yes—I suppose I wanted for him to feel a sting. It was a longshot that it would make any real difference, but I took a calculated risk that his love for his daughter might win out over his hatred of vampires." I paused, my smirk fading away. "However, my plan backfired. Pam and Nora were both captured, and Burrell's ire led him to want to punish me." I glanced at the ground and then back into Sookie's eyes. "_That_ is why he chose to test the Hepatitis V on Nora. Steve Newlin told him of Nora and my connection."

Her hand reached out and took mine. The gesture was comforting, and—though I was still angry at her—I didn't push her away.

Love and hate. Thin fucking line.

"So—yes—I have made mistakes," I said.

"Me too," she responded.

"The governor is dead now," I said.

"Did you kill him?" she asked.

I shook my head. "No. Bill had the honor."

"I'm sorry—not that he's gone, but that it wasn't you," she said, seeming to understand and—perhaps—to even accept the fact that I had wanted that kill.

"It is of little consequence how he died," I said, even as I felt her tiny hand squeezing mine. "However, Burrell's death will put Willa in as much jeopardy as the others. The governor had been making sure that she was unharmed and well-fed." I paused. "Even though I made her and then used her for my own machinations, I also saw a strength in her. Otherwise, I would not have turned her. I hope that she lives through what is to come."

"You care for her," she observed.

"It would be difficult for a maker not to care for his or her progeny."

"Bill didn't really care about Jessica at first," she reminded.

I shrugged. "Well—I am not Bill."

"No," she said, her eyes shining passionately, "you aren't. I'm sorry I ever thought you might be. That was yet another mistake on my part."

We stared at each other again—this time for several silent minutes. Our hands were still locked together—neither of us willing to break that physical connection. Her emotions were like the wind on my farm in Öland, swirling and overpowering—but also stirring and comforting. But most comforting of all was that her emotions included no doubt or distrust where I was concerned.

In truth, I didn't know what to think about my current interaction with Sookie. Just a few days before, she'd sent me from her home—the home I'd bought when her worthless brother had sold it. He'd not believed me when I told him that I knew Sookie would be back. Bill hadn't believed me. The shifter hadn't believed me. Sookie's friends hadn't believed me. They'd all mourned her like she'd died. They'd even had a memorial service—near the very spot where we were standing. Meanwhile, it had fallen to me to make sure that her home was waiting and ready for her.

Finally—unable to stop myself—I spoke. "You said you wanted to be the girl in the white dress," I said uncertainly. "You told me to go away."

She sighed. "I know."

"And I went. I went because I wanted you to be able to be anything you needed to be."

"I know," she said, her shoulders slumping.

"And then just a few days later," I stopped for a moment. "Sookie, I can smell another vampire on you. In you."

"I know," she said again. She closed her eyes and took a step away from me, though I did not allow her to let go of my hand. "The day after you returned my home to me, I was walking to work through the woods," she started.

"Wait—why were you walking?"

"My car wouldn't start," she said.

I nodded. I should have replaced her piece-of-shit car when I owned the house.

"Anyway," she continued, "I came across Warlow, but he called himself Ben. Quickly, I realized that he was a fairy, but I had no idea he was a vampire too."

"So you found him during the day?"

"Yes," she said.

I nodded. "Then you cannot blame yourself for not recognizing him as a vampire."

"He was injured—a vampire bite," she said.

"He played upon your sympathy," I observed.

Sookie nodded. "Just like Bill did."

It was my turn to nod. "Yes. I'm guessing that he was not upfront about being the vampire in the contract either."

"No," she said, looking nervous.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I know that it probably makes me look like some kind of slut, but I _did_ feel a connection with him right from the start. I think he has a fairy version of glamour—or something. And I didn't notice it for a while. But I can't blame that fully." She paused. "I liked him—or at least the idea of him. He was a fairy, seemingly a telepathic hybrid."

"Just like you," I said.

"Yes—I thought so."

"Someone to share the day with."

"Yes," she whispered. "But then I realized that he was Warlow, and everything's gone to hell since then." She closed her eyes. "But I realized something today—something I should have realized a long time ago."

"What is that?" I asked.

Her eyes opened; they struck me with their fierceness. "That _you_ have been the _only_ person who's ever really seen that girl in the white dress."

"Sookie," I responded, unable to say anything else.

"Eric," she said, "now isn't the time to have this conversation. I know that." She looked over at the blanket holding Nora. "But I want you to know one thing."

"What's that?" I asked.

"I _un_-rescind your invitation. You are welcome—very welcome—into my home whenever you wish to come in, Eric Northman," she said with sincerity and fervor.

"And when I come in?" I asked. "_How_ welcome will I be?"

"Very," she said and blushed.

"Will others be welcome?" I couldn't help but to ask. I knew that if we were truly together, I couldn't share her.

She shook her head. "No. Not as long as you don't welcome others into—um—your house or—um—resting place," she responded a little uncertainly.

"I will not," I promised. "But you should know that I have had sex with two others since that evening the witch tried to burn me—the night you told me that you did not desire to pursue a relationship with me," I disclosed.

I little pain flashed through her eyes, but she quickly nodded in acceptance. "Nora?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yes. I cared for her deeply. I have always admired her strength and courage, and she has been a comfort to me through many dark days—including some recent ones," I said honestly.

"Okay," she said. "Willa?"

I shook my head. "She is strong in her way, but—though it _was_ pleasurable—I had sex with Nora mainly to," I paused, "feel better—about you and Godric and what happened at the Authority." I paused. "I did not wish to take my new child's virginity from her when I held no true romantic attraction for her. I feel for her as I believe Bill now feels for Jessica."

"Then who?" she asked, her voice demonstrating more curiosity than jealousy.

"Salome," I answered. "When I was first taken by the Authority, she needed to believe that I was loyal to her—that she could control me. It was the only way I could make sure I eventually got the upper hand."

To her credit, Sookie simply nodded. "Okay," she said accepting my explanation.

"So we are even then," I observed.

"Even?"

"Yes. Did you not wish to have sex with the Were in order to feel better?"

"Yeah," she agreed with a rueful laugh. "I was feeling like the angel of death. And Alcide is a," she paused, "friend. I know it's wrong to use someone like that, but I think he was wanting to feel better too—about Debbie—so I justified it."

"And you had sex with Warlow in order to feel more in control—in order to try to get the upper hand with him as I needed to with Salome."

"Yeah—sort of," she said hesitantly.

"Do you have feelings for Warlow?" I asked, trying to keep my tone even.

"I feel _for_ him," she said. "I feel sorry for him. He claims to have loved me for more than five thousand years."

I scoffed.

"What?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I do not claim to know everything about love, but I do not believe one can love unless one _knows_ the other."

"He believes we are soul mates," she informed.

"What do you believe?" I asked.

Her eyes plowed into mine with intensity. "I don't believe _he's_ the one that's my soul mate."

"And what do you believe?" I asked.

"That soul mates should _both_ get to decide. And that no contract signed before someone is born should determine his or her destiny. And that a _real_ soul mate wouldn't have to use blackmail or blood to make another person his." She paused and took a deep breath. "And that if I have a soul mate in this life, Eric Northman, it is the man who bought my home just so that he could fix it and keep it safe for me. It is the man who walked away—more than once—because I needed time to get my shit together. It is the man who makes me feel like I am worthy and too precious to waste my life. It is the man I'm looking at right now."

By the end of her final sentence, Sookie's voice was loud and fervent, and tears trailed down both sides of her face. Her hand squeezed mine as if holding onto me for dear life. And her eyes were begging me to believe her, to accept her, and to love her.

"If I have a soul mate, Sookie Stackhouse," I began, "she is the woman who lights up my nights from the inside out. She is the woman who infuriates me, challenges me, and dares me to dream of the sun. She is the woman who walks bravely into a vampire bar wearing white—not once, but twice! And—let's get one thing straight—I was not enthralled by that woman in white because of her innocence or her blood or even her scent. I was enthralled because she did not cower. She did not treat me or any other vampire like an "other." She did not hesitate to help me when the police came to raid my bar. And she stayed with my maker when I could not. She is bold and loyal, and her flaws make me want to fix my own." I paused, "If I have a soul mate, I am looking at her."

"Eric," she whimpered, as more tears fell. I wanted to taste them—to taste all of her—but I refrained.

"So," I asked after a pause, "what are _we_ deciding here, Sookie?"

She sniffled. "That if you come to my home again, you are welcome to stay as long as you want," she said with conviction. "And that—until I know what you have decided for sure—you won't be smelling anyone else on me or in me anymore. And that—if you take me up on my invitation—I will remain faithful to you for the rest of my life."

"And I will remain faithful to you," I vowed. "And what of the rest of it?" I asked.

She smiled and swiped her tears with her free hand. "I have no idea. But I'm looking forward to being in a relationship where the man I'm with isn't trying to manipulate me at every turn."

I reached up and stroked her cheek with the backs of my fingers.

"I will not lie to you, Sookie. I will likely die when I return to the Vamp-Camp," I said evenly. I was always ready for death, but she needed to be prepared for the probability.

"I hope you don't, Eric," she responded in barely a whisper, "but if you do, I will bring you here if I can. I will put you with your sister and Gran. And when I die, I will join you."

We were silent for a moment. She was right. This wasn't the right time for us have our happy ending. Maybe it would never be the right time. But I was glad that there was now a possibility.

"I must see to my sister," I said.

She nodded and handed me the package she'd brought.

It was a Ziploc bag, holding a garment of some kind.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Open it," she said.

I broke the seal of the bag and was immediately bombarded by the scent of my maker. "Godric," I said closing my eyes and inhaling deeply. I felt a tear slipping down my face, but I didn't care.

Sookie reached up and brushed the tear away. "We've never talked about that morning. But I want you to know that Godric was at peace—though very sad to be leavin' you."

"And he died," I paused, "well?"

"It took only seconds," she answered, seeming to understand what I was really asking. I'd worried that he'd suffered.

"He just," she paused, "let go, and then he was gone in a blue flame."

I nodded. That meant he'd not fought the sun at all.

"I—uh—always meant to give this to you, but it never seemed the right time. Now seems right," she said gesturing toward the shirt in the bag. "He took it off—right before he met the sun. Maybe he intended for you to have it. As soon as I could, I put it into the Ziploc."

"Why?" I asked, barely able to form the word.

"Because," she answered, "vampires are all about scent."

I nodded. "Thank you," I said quietly. "This is a gift I cannot repay you for."

"Can I ask you to do one thing for me then?" she asked.

I nodded again.

"Just be careful, Eric," she said, her eyes begging, "as careful as you can be."

"I will try to return—to you," I promised.

She smiled. "Thank you. Um—do you want me to stay? Now?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I need to do this alone."

Sookie nodded and I saw understanding in her eyes. "I'll put flowers on the grave tomorrow," she said. "There's some sweet alyssum that's blooming thanks to the gardeners you hired."

I nodded as she handed me the shovel and turned.

"Eric?" she said, turning back.

"Yes?"

"Like I said, it's not the right time, but in case it's the last time I see you, I want you to know that I love you."

"As I love you," I returned.

"I heard you tell Nora that we could love each other in another life."

"You heard that?"

She shrugged. "Fairy-ness has some perks."

"It's good to see that you're embracing fairy Sookie a little." I couldn't help but to smirk.

She smirked back. "Apparently, she was the _red_ in that white dress."

I nodded. "I remember that red."

"Eric?"

"Yes?"

"I think we could love each other in _this_ life if we played our cards right. _And_—if we got a little lucky. Do you think I'm right?"

I could tell she was holding her breath waiting for my answer.

"Yes," I said. "We might need more than a _little_ luck, but yes."

She smiled. "Will you promise me something else then?"

I nodded.

"Let me know if I can help you? I mean—my blood is only good for a couple of minutes in the sun, but if it helps, it's yours—_every_ drop of it."

I could tell that she meant her words, and they rattled and comforted me all at once. "Thank you," I said.

She smiled, turned, and walked away, taking her light with her. Still, I felt better—much better. I looked down at the blanket, wishing that Nora were there for me to speak to. Though it likely made me look and sound a little crazy, I spoke to her remains as I began digging a hole into the earth.

"You would laugh at me, sister," I said confessingly, "but I started a bond with Sookie when I had no memories."

Of course, there was no answer, but I kept digging and speaking to the blanket.

"I felt a pull toward her from the start, though not a compulsion to make her my child." I shrugged. "But I think I saw the same thing in her that I saw in you—courage amidst foolishness." I chuckled.

Not caring that I was holding a one-sided conversation, I went on.

"I still can't believe you tended to people who had the plague," I said, shaking my head. "It was the Black Death for God's sake!" I chuckled. "That sounds like something Sookie would do." I scoffed. "_Zero_ self-preservation!"

By then I had dug the hole. Though there was not a whole body left of my beloved sister, I had made the hole large enough so that it would have fit a complete corpse—just as I'd done for her once before.

"The last time I did this for you," I said as I felt another tear trailing down my face, "was when I buried you and Godric after he'd turned you."

I carefully cradled the blanket and gently laid Nora into Gran's grave. I'd decided to put her four feet under the earth. The sun would not reach her there.

I felt another tear fall. "But this time, you will not rise—will you?"

As soon as she was in place, I took Godric's shirt out of the plastic bag Sookie had put it in. She'd been right. Vampires were all about scent, and the shirt still smelled strongly of my maker. I put the shirt to my nose and inhaled deeply before placing it next to Nora's remains.

"You were right, Nora," I said softly. "Pam and Willa will walk with me into the night from now on—_if_ we can survive." I sighed, this time not berating myself for the action. "But if I am to be happy, Sookie must be by my side too." I sat down in the grave next to what remained of my maker and my sister. I rested against the earth, enjoying its coolness.

"You would ridicule my attachment to Sookie, but after a thousand years, I have found something I never thought could be real. I have found a beloved to strive for—to commit to for the rest of my existence. All my days until the one when I met Sookie, I doubted that love like that could exist. I scorned those who spoke of soul mates and true loves. And—even if they had existed—I would not have thought that fate would make me the recipient of one." I paused. "Or maybe you would have just been happy for me. Yes," I sighed, "you, Sister, would have supported my decision to try with her. You would have been wary, but you would have supported it, and that is why I love you."

Having nothing more to say for the moment, I listened to the quiet sounds of the animals of the night and lingered for a while, relishing the scents of my family. Soon, I would have them only in my memory.

I had burned the bodies of my human parents and sister when they had been killed. I had placed them into a dragon ship with all the others who had fallen the day Russell's wolves had attacked. All the riches that the wolves hadn't taken had been sacrificed to our gods to make sure all the deceased people of my village were well-received into the afterlife.

However, as much as I wanted to light a flame to burn into the night, I refrained. It was not Nora's way to do such things; thus, I picked up the shovel as soon as I exited the grave.

During my long life I had memorized many things. Nora had been a Catholic in her human life, but as vampire, she had become a follower of Lilith; however, that devotion had surely waned in the days before her true death. I felt another tear stream down my face as I shoveled the first scoopful of loosened dirt over my sister's remains and Godric's shirt.

As I continued to cover the hole, I realized that none of the words from the Book of Lilith were appropriate to say over Nora's grave. The verses that spoke of a vampire's true death also called for those left behind to avoid mourning. They claimed that true death was to be seen as a kind of failure on the part of the vampire—an inability to withstand the test of time. I had always thought the words to be hypocritical—since Lilith herself had met the true death and vampires were supposed to remember and revere her.

Still—vampires were taught not to grieve, not even when their makers left the world. Of course, vampires felt it when their bonds with their makers disappeared; however, that pain was _supposed_ to be followed quickly by cold acceptance.

I was still working on that with Godric and felt certain that I'd have to work on it with Nora for a long time too.

But—then again—I'd never been the stereotypical vampire. I had kept the memory of my human parents alive in me for a thousand years. I had never craved to proliferate. And I had never wanted much power. All these things were anomalies among vampire.

No—a reading from the Book of Lilith didn't seem right, so I spoke words from Nora's first religion, words from the Book of Wisdom in the Catholic bible:

_The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, _

_And no torment shall touch them._

_They seemed, in the view of the foolish, to be dead;_

_And their passing away was thought an affliction_

_And their going forth from us, utter destruction._

_But they are in peace._

With vampire speed, I finished filling the hole and stood over the grave.

I wasn't sure what else to say, but I spoke nonetheless.

"When I first saw you, I thought that you were special, Nora. And I was right. Godric saw it too, my sister." I heard my voice shaking and slumped to my knees.

"You were always the better of us, little sister—kinder and more attune to others' needs than your own." I shook my head a little. "Your goodness restored our maker's faith in a way that I never could." Another tear fell. "And if I have any human kindness left, it is because you reminded me of it." I chuckled, "But you were one hell of a vampire too. Do you remember the early days after your turning?" I asked the ground. "How I taught you to fight and Godric taught you to feed?" I smirked. "And how we both taught you how to fuck properly?"

I placed my hand, palm down and stretched out fully, onto the dirt. "I _will_ remember you, my sister. And I _will_ avenge your death. The Book of Lilith tells me to forget, but I will not. I hope that the Christian bible is right and that you are in the hands of your god, safe and at peace—in a _true_ forever, one that I could not give to you." I paused. "I am sorry I failed you, dear sister."

I felt myself standing up and looked once more at the dirt that covered Nora.

"If I reach Valhalla one day, I hope that I might be allowed into the halls of your god to visit you. Jag kommer alltid att minnas dig, min vän, min syster, min älskare, I whispered before I walked away into the night. ["_I will always remember you, my friend, my sister, my lover_."]

* * *

**A/N: Let me start by thanking all who have been commenting! You have been so kind that I have decided to extend this story (this was originally the final chapter). It's still not going to be too long, but because of your interest, I will be adding a few chapters. **

**It might be Friday or Saturday before the next one appears, however. So please be patient.**

**I hope you will continue to let me know what you think of this! I'm having fun with it. And—to my **_**Comfortably Numb**_** fans—please bear with me just a little longer. In writing this, I've actually become more "freshly" excited about that story too, which is always good. Sometimes a vacation is needed from a story in order for me to get super excited about it again. But **_**CN**_** will return soon. **

**Cheers,**

**Kat**


	6. Chapter 6: Holes

**Chapter 6: Holes**

_Eric POV_

I listened carefully to Bill as he told me that Dr. Hido Takahashi would have Warlow's blood ready to create a "sunlight inoculation" by nightfall the following day. Apparently, the magical qualities of Warlow's blood degraded outside of his body; the same thing happened to "regular" vampire blood. Thus, we didn't form ties and bonds with human V-addicts and the like. In fact, unless the human drank the blood directly from the tap—so to speak—our magic rejected the transfer to another body. Warlow's blood, apparently, could last about half an hour outside of his body before the magic in it began to decay. Takahashi claimed that he was well on his way to fixing this problem.

Every cell in my body called for me to invite Bill to go fuck himself when he "ordered" me to "be patient" until Takahashi had finished his work. After all, I figured I could just take a big drink of Warlow, get myself inoculated, and then return immediately to the Vamp Camp that Governor Burrell had set up. My Viking blood and my vampire blood boiled, and I wanted to burn through that camp until there was nothing left.

However, I knew that doing that would likely get me killed, and I'd made a promise to Sookie that I would try to avoid that. Plus, many vampires—including my progenies—would likely die if I acted recklessly. Nora had been right. I needed to try to go on and to make sure the blood of my maker continued to flourish—even if Godric and Nora were no more.

Thus, I would wait. I would make sure that I protected Pam and Willa and Tara—and even Jessica. And—after I had ensured that Godric's line would survive even if I did not—I would take my revenge.

"So—do you agree?" Bill asked once he was through spewing the details of his half-ass plan. I intended to modify it.

"Your plan has holes, Bill," I said. "For instance, how will I smuggle the blood into the camp. You wish for me to be 'caught'—correct? They will take away my clothing and belongings immediately."

"Oh," Bill said with a smirk, "I'm sure you can come up with something."

I may have groaned a little. I had already "come up with something"—as he well knew—but hiding vials in my rectum was an unpleasant thought. Luckily, since vampires' colons were purely decorative, at least it wasn't an overly disgusting prospect.

"Yes," I said. "But I hate carrying things there. The feeling is," I paused, "disagreeable."

Bill chuckled. Pretty much every vampire I'd ever known had used his or her ass as a conveyance at one time or another. It was sometimes necessary to be ready to move quickly, and if one had small items that one wanted to keep, the ass was a convenient "storage facility."

But I hated making myself into a goddamned kangaroo! And Pam would never let me hear the end of it—so to speak.

"Surely in your thousand years you have experimented with men," Bill said tauntingly. "I cannot believe that you would be," he paused, "shy about such things."

"I am not," I said simply.

"What other _holes_ do you find with my plan?" he said, laughing at his own pun.

I rolled my eyes. One other "hole" was definitely the _asshole_ who'd come up with said plan.

I sighed. "Fine—let's say that I'm able to get everyone the inoculations. While we are in that room, there will be guns pointed at us—guns with silver or wooden bullets. So we may avoid the sun just to be shot in the heart."

Bill frowned. Yep—it seemed that he was finally seeing the big, _gaping_ holes in his plan to save "everyone." I was actively ignoring the fact that he'd conveniently forgotten about all the other vampires in the camp—vampires who were likely drinking Hep-V as we spoke. Nora had received a large dose, but I figured any amount of the Hep-V would eventually lead to a vampire's death.

It wasn't really that I cared much about the other vampires at the camp. But—as the vampire savior he claimed to be—Bill should have turned a thought to them.

"What do you suggest?" he asked me.

Wasn't he supposed to be the demigod here? How about a lobotomy—for him—for starters? With difficulty, I refrained from making that suggestion out loud. Instead, I decided to ask for some details about his vision.

"The room in your vision—describe it."

"It is circular and white."

I nodded. I had been there. "How many vampires were in your vision?"

He thought for a moment. "Eight."

"Who exactly?"

"I recognized Jessica, Pam, Tara, Steve Newlin, and—of course—you. There were three others, two women and one man."

"Was one of the women petite and brunette?" I asked.

"Both of the women were brunettes; I didn't regard their heights," he said somewhat churlishly.

Yep. I was right. I had been starting to like Bill, but Billith was an asshole.

I closed my eyes and recalled every single detail about the room. Truly, the phrase, "the devil is in the details," took on a whole new level of meaning when it came to vampires.

"There is a hatch at the top of the room," I said. "Our captors will—no doubt—open it to let in the sunlight. They will be surprised when we don't burn, and that surprise will allow me to fly out, but given the size of the opening, I could take only two others with me."

"Jessica _will_ be one of those two," Bill said. "I do not care whom you choose as the other."

So much for his benevolence regarding saving "all" the vampires. Speaking of holes—there were a lot in his character.

However, agreeing with Bill would be beneficial for the moment. The inoculation was necessary for the "real plan" that was forming in my brain.

I nodded. "I will take Jessica and Tara, and I will instruct Pam to try to remove the threat of the guns until I can return for the others. If we are lucky, the Vamp Camp bastards will wish to study why the sun didn't kill the ones left behind."

Bill narrowed his eyes, looking for duplicity in mine.

"Fine," he said.

"Then what?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" he responded.

"Do you intend to allow the Vamp Camp and the TruBlood factory to stay open?" I asked. "Or do you intend to destroy them?"

"While you are making sure that the others don't burn, I will be collecting evidence that can be used to prove what that facility is really doing to vampires. Since the governor is now dead," Bill boasted, "the lieutenant governor will take over. He is more sympathetic to vampires, and once the nature of the Vamp Camp is exposed, public support will grow for our kind again."

"Might I suggest that you bring back a couple of the tainted TruBloods for the good doctor to study," I commented. "He could figure out how much Hep-V was placed in each one and begin to work on a cure."

Bill considered my suggestion. Why he hadn't thought of it himself was fucking beyond me—just as his purposeless excursion to kill the governor, which had apparently accomplished nothing, was beyond me.

"Good idea," he allowed. "Likely the formula for Hep-V was developed elsewhere, so a cure will be needed."

I nodded as if in agreement. There was no need for Bill to know that I intended to expose the happenings at Vamp Camp and destroy the TruBlood factory in a much more grandiose way.

"I have some arrangements to make," Bill said.

I nodded again. "I will watch the good doctor work for a while," I said motioning toward Takahashi, who was busy at a microscope. Science had always fascinated me; even the rudimentary medicine-making of my own people had captured my attention as a youth, although the mixing of the curative herbs was generally seen as women's work. Thankfully, my own mother hadn't had much time for traditional gender roles. Looking back, I understood that my father was a great king at least partially because my mother was by his side.

I settled into a seat and focused on the doctor.

"You returned smelling of her," Warlow grumbled from his silver cage. In truth, I'd pretty much forgotten he was there during my conversation with Bill. The silver didn't burn Warlow, as it did other vampires, but he couldn't free himself either. It was nice to know that he had a weakness.

I said nothing in response to him.

"I said that you returned smelling of her!" Warlow repeated somewhat petulantly as if he were five years old instead of over five thousand.

Again I didn't respond to him.

"What is she to you, vampire?" he asked in a clipped tone.

Still not looking at him, I couldn't help but to contemplate his question.

What is Sookie Stackhouse to me? She is infuriating—for one. Humans, especially young ones, were often self-contradictory and indecisive beings, but Sookie's stubbornness and inconsistency made my skin crawl at times.

Of course, the other things that she did to my skin more than made up for that.

Sookie had attracted me from the start. And then I'd become intrigued by her. Before long, I was thinking of her more than I thought of any other. And that was _before_ the witch's spell had taken my memories.

To say that I loved her was a mislabeling, however. With Sookie, I'd come to discover that the vampire equivalent of romantic love was much more profound than any emotion I'd ever experienced during my human life. I'd used the word "love" twice to express myself to Sookie: once the night she'd hit me with her light to prevent me from killing Bill and once just an hour before. However, even as I'd said the word—"love"—I had been confronted by its inadequacy.

No.

"Love" wasn't a big enough word when it came to describing what I felt for Sookie, but it was the closest thing I'd found. Maybe she was my soul mate, after all. Maybe that was the pull I felt when she was near to me. Maybe that was the ache I felt when she was far from me.

"She is _my_ soul mate," Warlow proclaimed from his cell.

"Can you read vampires' minds?" I asked. Given his words, which seemed to be responding to my thoughts, I figured it was a distinct possibility.

Immediately, I turned my thoughts to having sex with Sookie in the woods to see if he had a reaction to them. He did not.

"No, I cannot," Warlow said. "Vampires are _dead_. Their minds are blanks to me."

Just to be sure, I thought about fucking Sookie on her floor, on her chair, against the wall, and in her bed. My memories flowed through my mind quickly and vividly. Again, there was no reaction. Nope—I guess he couldn't read vampire thoughts, after all.

I tilted my head a bit to study Warlow/Ben, the fairy-vampire who had so recently shared carnal pleasure with my beloved.

The ancient vampire was a handsome man; thus, I was not surprised that Sookie had been attracted to him. He was also able to go out into the daylight, a definite perk to someone like her.

However, I couldn't bring myself to be jealous. It wasn't my way. After the confrontation with the witch at the Festival of Tolerance, I had felt pain—not jealousy—when Sookie told me that she still loved Bill. Two nights later, I had felt torment when she told me that she did not want to pursue a relationship with me. And I had felt irritation when I smelled Warlow on her. But jealousy was a useless emotion, and, over the years, I had witnessed it driving many people to ruination.

The fact was that Sookie hadn't really given me anything to be jealous about. The new insurgence of Bill's blood—piled upon the speed at which she and I had formed an attachment, as well as my regaining my memories—had caused her confusion. Could I blame her for that? I had been a little "freaked out" by the convergence of the witch situation and then the Authority situation and then the Russell situation and then the Billith situation—not to mention falling in love for the first time—and I was over a thousand years old! Sookie was not even thirty. And how could I be jealous of Warlow? Sookie had promised me faithfulness only 90 minutes ago! Before that, I'd had no official claim to her.

No. I couldn't begrudge her for trying to find power or comfort from a fuck.

I certainly hadn't been "chaste" during the weeks following the witch war. I'd enjoyed my reunion with Nora too much to let my unresolved feelings for Sookie get in the way of my carnal pleasure. And I'd had a _relationship_ with Nora—a real one. Yet I'd not felt jealousy from Sookie earlier; on the contrary, I'd felt acceptance and understanding when I told her about having sex with Nora and Salome. I figured that I owed her the same when it came to Warlow, especially considering the things that Sookie had been dealing with for the last weeks. The only thing that made me angry was that she'd pushed me away, instead of letting me help her.

But she was not pushing anymore. And neither was I.

Yes. I could see the lure of someone like Warlow/Ben. But there was a shiftiness in him too—something I had distrusted right away. I decided to "test" it.

"Does she agree?" I asked, following up on something he'd said several minutes before.

"Agree?" he asked.

"Yes," I responded. "Does Sookie agree that she is your soul mate?"

This time, he was the one that did not answer.

"You were made by Lilith?" I asked, taking a different track with the conversation.

"Yes," he said.

"Was she a deity?" I asked.

"She was powerful. But she was not indestructible."

I nodded. "You were able to kill her."

"Yes."

"You hated her?" I asked.

"Yes—she abandoned me without teaching me. I returned to my village and—having no control—killed everyone, except for one child, who didn't emerge from his dwelling."

"Being in Vamp Camp has made it impossible for me to follow all the gossip of my old area," I smirked. "However, I heard the name Niall. Could that be the fairy you were unable to get to?"

"Yes," he said.

"And Niall is related to Sookie?"

"Yes."

"And you banished him to another realm?" I asked.

"Just returning a favor," Warlow said. "I was sent there for years. And I did not wish to kill him."

"Tell me," I inquired leaning forward a little, "how did you manage to incapacitate a full-blooded fairy long enough to send him through a portal?"

Surprisingly, Warlow answered my question without hesitation. "I almost drained him so that I could transport him to the location of the portal," he informed, "and then I gave him some of my blood so that he could survive being pulled into the other realm."

"But you killed those at the fairy club," I observed.

"How do you know of that?" he asked.

"Your voices carried earlier," I said evenly. And I'd "inherited" extra sensitive hearing from my maker, though Warlow didn't need to know that.

"I did not intend to kill them," he claimed.

I almost laughed. Warlow was a wonderful study in contradictions. He claimed a lack of control with the fairies at the club, but he'd been able to stop himself from draining Niall before he died? And then he'd apparently formed a tie with him—likely so that he'd be able to find him again more than out of any benevolence. I figured that—at some point—Warlow planned to use Niall to try to gain leverage over Sookie.

I decided not to mention the holes in Warlow's character. Instead, I kept digging to see if I could find more of them.

"I understand well the temptation of Fae blood," I said, sitting back in my chair and lacing my hands behind my head. "I once drained a full-blooded fairy right in front of Sookie's eyes. I believe Sookie referred to her as her fairy godmother. She was delicious," I said, licking my lips.

"You see—we are monsters," Warlow responded broodingly.

"Yes," I nodded. "All apex predators are thought of as monsters by their prey."

Warlow shook his head. "You are completely unapologetic about that," he said with disbelieving judgment in his tone.

"Completely," I confirmed. "Still—even a monster does not have to be all bad. It is a pity that your maker did not better teach you of that," I added sincerely.

"Yours did?"

"Yes. Immediately after I awoke as vampire for the first time, Godric commanded that I never approach my village again. He understood that I would want to be close to the humans from my life, but that I had little control over my appetites. He was merciful."

"So he took them from you. How is that mercy?"

"He allowed me the choice of whether to die or live this way," I said, gesturing toward myself. "I chose life."

"Life as a monster—a shark of human blood."

I shook my head. "The difference between vampires and sharks is that—in addition to being predators—vampires can also be wise enough to appreciate our prey. Take the professor, for example," I said, gesturing to the man who was busily working on the other side of the room. "He obviously gains much satisfaction from his work, and I gain from it as well. To not acknowledge that would be foolhardy. And to kill him would be a waste."

"But you have no problem killing humans you have no use for?"

"All humans have use," I said, "though your original maker seemed to have thought that their use was only equivalent to how most humans now see cattle." I smirked. "Is it not ironic that a _human_ scientist is now using the blood from a _fairy_-vampire hybrid to create an inoculation which will save _vampires_?" I sat forward again. "My maker would have seen this as a lesson. Nora would have seen it as a blessing. I see it as yet another example of humanity pushing itself forward and taking us with it."

Warlow said nothing to that.

"Tell me something," I said, leaning forward. "How were you able to kill Lilith?"

"She killed herself," Warlow said. "She made a child who could walk in the sun. I opened a hole in the cave where she rested and introduced her to it."

I grinned, thinking about how much Nora would have liked being in on this conversation. She had known the Book of Lilith backwards and forwards. I'd read it in the same phase during which I'd read the Christian bible, the Koran, the Tanakh, the Kangyur, and various other religious texts. Most such texts were equivalents in my way of thinking. It wasn't that I didn't see value in them; on the contrary, I felt that it was foolish not to appreciate the wisdom housed in the texts—even if one didn't subscribe to the particular tenants of the particular faith or doubted the holiness of the particular religion. I also "believed" in them—all of them—to a certain degree. I was wise enough to know that the magic that animated the world was beyond me. However, that didn't stop me from trying to understand it. Books of faith could be helpful with that—as could literature, art, and science.

"The Book of Lilith seemed to foretell this day," I observed conversationally, "a day when the world of vampires would be threatened, but that a 'being of light' would save them. It seems you are that being—whether you want to be or not," I smirked. "Of course, Lilith also supposedly foretold that you would kill her too. Have you read the book?"

Warlow growled a little. "I am _very_ familiar with its content," he choked out.

I chuckled. "Fifty-five hundred years would be conducive to getting a lot of," I paused, "_reading_ done, though I believe that the disciples of Lilith did not write down the text until quite some time after her death."

"Lilith's other vampire children," Warlow scoffed. "_Many_ times, they have tried to end me."

"Killing their maker may have prompted that," I smirked. "But are you certain that they really _tried_? After all, Lilith foretold that the one to end her would also be the one to help her walk in the light; I guess that was referring to Bill." I paused. "Surely your brothers and sisters were merely playing with you until you could fulfill Lilith's prophesy—and your _use_."

He glared at me. "You would do well to remember that I am thousands of years older than you and could kill you without any problem."

My smirk grew. "For one who supposedly hates vampires so much, you certainly speak and act like one."

"You know _nothing_ of me and the horrors of my life."

"I don't suppose I do," I responded sincerely. "My own maker reached his limit after two thousand years. He met the sun."

"I do not even have that option."

"No—I don't suppose you do."

"I have always hated being a vampire. I have always hated the destruction that I became capable of."

I decided not to point out that control could be learned—even with fairies around. When he'd annihilated his village, he'd been just a fledgling, so he couldn't be blamed for that. However, the fairy club was a different story. He could have—from what I'd picked up—simply avoided that temptation altogether.

"You despise being vampire," I responded, looking for confirmation.

"Yes—I would have met the sun if it were possible," he responded.

There were other ways to die, but I refrained from mentioning those. I wanted to keep him talking since we were finally getting somewhere productive.

"Yet you would turn Sookie into a vampire?" I asked.

"I would not," Warlow averred, but I saw the shiftiness in his eyes again. I couldn't help but to feel a little sorry for him. To reach his age and still have so much self-loathing and contradiction in his life must have been difficult.

"You use words like eternity to describe the timeframe in which you wish to keep Sookie," I observed.

"She will be what I am," Warlow said. "She will be my mate."

"So you _do_ wish to turn her into a vampire?"

"I am not vampire," he stated flatly.

"You could have fooled me," I returned.

Once more, he glared at me.

"Do you plan to give her a choice, or will you turn her by force?"

"She will want the life I offer once she understands."

Knowing Sookie, I somehow doubted it. However, I now knew what I needed to know about Warlow. He had tried to use guile to get Sookie. He had also attempted blackmail. It looked like he'd resort to force too.

"Well—this conversation has been scintillating," I said rising from my chair, "but I have an errand to run."

"What are you to Sookie?" Warlow asked evenly, though I could sense his rage under the question.

"You've had her blood," I responded. "Can you not tell what I am to her?"

"No," he seethed.

Curiouser and curiouser.

"And I can tell that she has had your blood," I said, forcing my tone to remain even. I wondered if he sensed my own bubbling rage. I might not have been a jealous creature in the conventional sense, but that didn't mean that I wanted another to share blood with her either.

"Yes—she _wanted_ to take my blood," he said triumphantly.

"Yes. I imagine she did—at the time."

"We exchanged blood in our passion. She wants me," he insisted. "She loves me—as I love her."

"I have no difficulty sensing what she feels for you," I said enigmatically. In truth, Sookie didn't feel affection or even great lust when Warlow's name was mentioned. She felt sympathy, some guilt, and quite a bit of anger. But I wasn't about to tell Warlow that. I was surprised that he didn't know already; after all, he should have been able to sense her emotions. Perhaps he was in denial.

Curiouser and curiouser, indeed.

"Tell me—did you start a bond with her when you exchanged blood?" I hedged.

"_That_ is just a matter of time," he insisted.

"Should I take that as a _no_ then?" I asked.

"Another bond is already there," he said accusingly.

"I believe that Bill has had _much_ of her blood," I informed. "And I know of at least five times that she's had his."

"A bond requires a _mutual_ exchange," he said, "like the one she shared with me."

"I am well aware of the logistics," I smirked. "I was just making an observation about the frequency at which Sookie has had Bill's blood. Of course, most of those times were about saving her life after he'd put it into danger."

He growled a little. I could empathize. The incident with the Rattrays had been set up by Bill with the single purpose of getting his blood into her. The Maenad incident had occurred because Bill had let Sookie run off into the night after they'd had an argument. Then, Bill had almost drained Sookie as they had returned from Mississippi. He'd given her his blood after she'd been shot during the witch war. Of course, the only people who'd had guns that night were his men. I had certainly not forgotten that little fact—though I'd been willing to give Bill the benefit of the doubt that it had been "friendly fire." I was, however, beginning to doubt that assumption.

Of course, Bill had also given Sookie blood after Russell and I had taken hers. We'd taken a lot—though she wouldn't have died from it. I'd made sure of that. But Bill's blood-giving had been my fault that time.

"Is her bond with _you_?" Warlow asked accusatorially.

"You've had her blood, and she has had yours. Can you not tell?"

"No," he disclosed.

"Curiouser and curiouser," I observed—out loud this time. I could feel every single drop of my own blood in Sookie, and all those drops were tightly clustered around a light inside of her. I could also feel Warlow's and Bill's blood in her. That blood moved throughout her body like it was in search of something, but—as if it were afraid that it might be destroyed—it never ventured toward the light. I somehow knew that Sookie and my fledgling bond was inside of that light, so that was where my blood stayed—perhaps to protect the bond or perhaps to bask in her. Probably both.

"Maybe you are _not_ the 'being of light' spoken of in the Book of Lilith, after all," I said quietly, thinking of the light I saw when I looked at Sookie and the way Warlow's blood was repelled from the source of it as much as Bill's was.

"Why do you say that?"

"Though you can dwell in the light, you seem to be frightened of it."

"Why do you say that?" he repeated.

"Just an observation," I said.

"Are _you_ the reason she and I couldn't bond?" Warlow probed impatiently. "Her blood was still on my lips as she drank from me. It _should_ have worked!" he added. "We should have a bond even now!"

"I believe that a level of choice must be involved for a bond to be created, and the human must not require the blood for healing when it is taken," I said evenly.

"Sookie _did_ choose. And she wasn't injured," he informed.

"Was she not?" I asked. I'd felt her torment even as I'd been feeling my own over Nora's illness.

"She was uninjured," Warlow said again.

"What happened to her then?" I asked.

"Her friend tried to kill her."

"Her friend?"

"He was possessed by the spirit of her father."

"Ah—Lafayette. But why would Sookie's father wish to kill her?"

"To keep her from me," Warlow snarled. "That is why I had to kill him many years ago. He was trying to kill her then too."

"So Sookie had just discovered that her own father had tried to kill her when she was a child? And another attempt had been made on her life by his spirit."

"Yes—but I saved her both times," he said. I saw the arrogance seeping into his eyes.

"Then you have my sincere thanks," I said frankly.

He stepped forward and tested the bars of his cell. Though the silver didn't burn him, it obviously made him uncomfortable.

"Stay away from her," he warned. "You are not good enough for her!"

I considered his statement for a moment. It had never even occurred to me to wonder if I was "good enough" for Sookie—or for anyone for that matter. The only relevant factor was that Sookie thought I was.

She'd chosen—finally chosen _me_.

I had felt acceptance, care, and love from her in the graveyard. And for the first time, those emotions were not mixed with fear and indecision.

And—if I lived—I _would_ go to her. And we would try to find that "other life" together. That was already decided upon.

"In fact," I said aloud, though not really to Warlow, "why wait?"

I turned and left the makeshift laboratory that Bill had set up in his basement.

"Stay away from her!" Warlow called after me.

My eyes were rolling even before he'd completed his "command."

Fat fucking chance.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this one took a while. I've been busy with professional and personal stuff. And these interactions between Eric and the other "suitors" took me longer to write than I'd thought it would. I hope that you enjoyed it. Again, since I'm writing and editing (instead of just editing) at this point, the next chapter might take a few days.**

**That said, I continue to be blown away by the overall response to this story and the reviews/comments! Even though one "guest" claimed that I was—as usual—being too wordy, many of you seem to like this story! Your reading honors me. And remember—if you don't like what I do (without pay, by the way), you can make the decision to not read.**

**Cheers,**

**Kat**


	7. Chapter 7: Thy Own Life's Key

**Chapter 7: Thy Own Life's Key**

_Keep thy friend_

_Under thy own life's key._

_(William Shakespeare, _All's Well That Ends Well_, I.i.65-6)_

* * *

_Eric POV _

I had to knock.

Unfortunately, I'd had to dump the key to Sookie's home, along with my other personal belongings, before I'd allowed myself to be taken into custody by the "vampire cops."

She was at the door in under thirty seconds. Her hair was still in a bun, but wisps of it now fluttered around her face. She had changed out of her black dress. She was now barefoot and wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. I smiled when I saw the T-shirt.

"You were wearing that the first time I kissed you," I observed as I looked at the garment, which was advertising the Bon Temps high school football team.

She looked down at her shirt and then back up at me. She blushed a little. "I didn't expect you tonight. I thought you'd be," she stopped.

"On a rampage?" I asked.

She nodded.

"I have decided to adhere to Bill's plan—at least up to a point. Thus, I'm stuck here for the moment."

"Stuck?" she asked.

I smirked. "_Pleasantly_ stuck—as it turns out."

Her lips warred between tugging up into a smile and turning down with worry. "So—you're working with Bill?"

"For the moment," I responded. "I think it's the best way for me to ensure the safety of the others. And then I will," I paused.

"Rampage?" she asked.

I nodded.

She bit her lip a little and stepped to the side. Already having my invitation, I walked in.

"I've been cleaning," she said almost apologetically. "I do that when I'm nervous."

"You're nervous?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. I feel like an army wife."

"An army wife?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I know it's not the same, but I was worried."

"About me—rampaging?" I questioned.

"Yes."

"It's still surprising," I said honestly. "I never thought_ I_ would be the one you worried about."

"But you are," she said, her eyes shining. "And that's the way things are going to stay."

My eyes found themselves looking at her lips. "If you aren't ready for this—for _everything_—then I'll just help you clean."

"You clean?" she asked skeptically.

"Well," I answered, "One must learn to clean things efficiently if one is to be discreet. In fact," I smirked, "the last time I cleaned, it was for you."

"When you worked on this house?" she asked.

"No," I shook my head. "Though I did much cleaning then too in order to ensure that nothing salvageable was lost. But the last thing I cleaned up was Nan Flanagan."

"Huh?"

"Do you really want to know?" I asked, eyebrow raised.

She bit her lip and nodded.

"She threatened you, so Bill and I killed her. Actually, I killed her goons and Bill got the pleasure of staking her. It was before the Authority captured us."

She took a deep breath. "You're a vampire, Eric."

"I am," I responded.

"I _real_ one," she whispered, bringing her hand to my cheek.

I wasn't quite following her line of thinking, but I answered even as I leaned into her touch. "Yes. I am real."

She seemed to be trying to reconcile something in her mind. "You've killed for me," she whispered.

"Yes," I said. "I have killed many, and I will kill many more—and soon—but never for no reason."

"You're not sorry about that—the killing?" she asked.

"No, Sookie, I am not," I said. My chest ached and I couldn't help but to wonder if my invitation were about to be rescinded again.

"I'd kill for you," she said instead of sending me away.

"Yes. I know. You tried with Bill."

She nodded. "I'm still coming to terms with fairy Sookie, but it's going better than it was before."

"Yes," I said softly, bringing my hand up to her cheek to mirror her own hand. She leaned into my touch as well. "I can see that."

"Just so we're clear—you like both of them. Right?" she whispered.

"Both?" I asked.

"You once said that there were two Sookie Stackhouses. You like _both_ of them—right?" she questioned as she moved a little closer to me.

"Very much," I answered as I began to lean down.

She stretched her body upwards. "When will you have to go?"

"At first dark—tomorrow," I said, stopping my movements. I needed for her to choose what we did next. I needed her—for once and for all—to pick me. To move to me.

She looked at my lips and licked her own, but then she moved back a little.

"Eric?"

"Yes?"

"I've made most of my worst mistakes when I've been grieving. After Gran died, I felt dead inside. That's why I gave myself to Bill so quickly and irrevocably."

"And you were grieving yesterday—because you found out that your parents had tried to kill you and had been killed by Warlow for their trouble," I said.

"Yes—how do you know that?" she asked.

"I spoke with Warlow."

"You did?"

"Yes. I asked him why you were hurting yesterday."

"How did you know I was hurting?"

"I can feel you, Sookie. I could feel your stronger emotions after Dallas, but ever since our blood exchange in the cubby, I have been able to feel almost everything—even from a far distance—unless I actively shut you out."

"In the cubby, you said that we'd be one," she responded with a gasp.

"Yes," I confirmed. "And we could be. We started a blood bond—the most sacred kind of connection that any vampire can make with another."

"A blood bond?" Sookie asked.

"Yes. Come," I said, as I locked the door. I reached out for her hand; she took it immediately. "Will you sit with me for a while? There are things I need to say to you and only one night in which to say them."

She nodded and looked a little apprehensive. I couldn't say that I blamed her.

Once we were settled onto her couch, we turned our bodies to face each other, though I didn't drop her hand.

"Did I make blood bonds with Bill and Warlow?" she asked, her apprehension changing to fear.

I shook my head. "No. A vampire can have only one blood bond at a time. And it is the same for all other creatures I know of. I sense their blood inside of you, Sookie, but the unfinished bond in your body has been forged from the connection of _our_ blood—and ours alone."

"Unfinished?" she asked.

I nodded. "A completed blood bond requires three mutual exchanges."

"Like the exchange we made in the cubby?"

I nodded again.

"I've had Bill's blood—a lot," she said uneasily.

"I am aware of that," I said quietly. "The blood of a vampire is magical, but it is limited in a way. Am I correct that Bill gave you blood only when you were injured?"

She nodded.

"Then his blood had a 'practical' goal—to fix the injury. It could not have forged a bond at the same time."

"But he could have used it to try to influence me?"

I nodded. "Yes. _After_ you were fully healed."

"And Bill can track me and feel my emotions—right?"

"Yes—your stronger ones."

"And Warlow too?"

I nodded in confirmation. "Yes, but what they feel—at least in Warlow's case—is nothing to what I can feel."

"Because I haven't bonded with them?" she asked.

"Precisely—what you have with them is called a blood tie, and you can have more than one of those at a time. It's what we had after Dallas. However, a completed bond would negate all ties. It would also make it impossible for you to be tied to or bonded with another—ever."

"Oh," she said. "And we started one of those?"

I nodded. "As I said, a permanent bond requires three exchanges. They must be mutual—meaning that the blood must be on the lips of both participants at the same time. And—as I suggested—a bond cannot form if the vampire blood is purposed for healing."

"Wait. Warlow and I exchanged, and I wasn't hurt at the time."

"Arguable," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"I felt you hurting."

"You mean emotionally?" she asked.

I leaned forward a little. "Yes—but I think it's more than that—at least where you're concerned. I think that _fairy_ Sookie truly was injured."

"Huh?"

"Sookie," I said, deciding to go for broke, "there is a light in you."

She rolled her eyes a little. "Yeah—you've said that before."

"No," I said more forcefully, "a _literal_ light that I can _see_. I noticed it when you first came into Fangtasia. It was like a beacon."

Disbelieving, she shook her head a little.

"Pam did not mention seeing it that night," I reported. "She just said that you smelled delicious. In Dallas, I asked Godric if he saw it. He did not. I trusted Nora enough to ask her too. But she didn't see it either. I do not know about Bill, but I have never heard another vampire mention it."

She was still shaking her head, but I went on. "I looked into the matter—discreetly, of course. But there was no explanation."

"You've never told me this before," she said quietly.

"I didn't think you would take it well; you so wanted to be 'normal.' And I wanted to know if others saw it. But I _did_ mention it when I lost my memories. We were sitting on this very couch when I spoke of it. I just didn't express myself clearly enough for you to understand that I wasn't speaking metaphorically."

"So you—uh—see a _literal_ light in me?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "It is like a soft glow on your skin."

"You see is now?" she asked.

"Every time I look at you."

"You must think I'm a freak?" she said, trying to yank her hand away from mine.

"I believe that both you and your light are beautiful," I said, keeping hold of her.

"I don't get why you'd even want me," she said a little dejectedly; I noticed that her confidence from earlier was waning.

"You do not think enough of yourself, Sookie Stackhouse," I said, squeezing her hand a little. "I have told you this before."

"I know," she said sitting up a little straighter. "I'm trying to believe it, but I've made a lot of mistakes."

I nodded. "Yes. But I've had a thousand years to make mistakes. You still have some catching up to do."

"Probably not by much," she said ruefully.

I took an unnecessary breath into my lungs. "The night you saved Bill and me from burning at the stake—you decided not to be with either of us."

"I remember," she said sadly. "I hurt you."

"The look that was in your eyes then is the one I see now. And that look is what _truly_ hurts me, Sookie." I paused. "That look tells me that you do not trust in your own worth."

"I don't," she confessed.

"But you trust in _my_ worth?"

She nodded immediately. "Yes."

"I am a killer. I am arrogant and what you have termed 'high-handed.' I am stubborn and ruthless at times—cruel even. I am vampire and have survived on the blood of humans for a thousand years. Yet you still believe me to be worthy of your love?" I asked.

"Yes." Again she didn't hesitate.

"I could ask you _why_ then too," I said. "_Why_ do you love me, Sookie Stackhouse?"

"There are a lot of reasons," she answered after a moment. "You're just _you_. You're Eric."

"Do you know what I believe?" I asked.

"No."  
"I believe that the 'why' doesn't matter so much. I too have many reasons for loving you—some easily explained and some impossible to quantify. Some are even illogical. But at the base of _all_ those reasons is a foundation that I cannot fathom. I do not know how or when or why it was built. Yet it is there, and it is strong, and I know that it will never leave me." I paused. "For I while, I tried to ignore it or even to destroy it. But nothing felt right—that is, until I let myself embrace the _only_ pertinent fact."

"What fact is that?" she asked.

"That I love you. One night—three days after you disappeared into the fairy realm—I woke up from my day sleep, and my first thought was of you—not of feeding from you or having sex with you or needing your help for anything. It was just of your face. And the next night it was the same. And all others. No matter what the world has brought to me since then, a thought of you greets me _first_ each night. And—many of those nights—it was _that_ thought which grounded me to myself and spurred me to go on."

"Eric," she said, a tear dripping from her eye. "I don't deserve that or you."

"Does that matter anymore than the 'why,' Sookie?"

She shook her head after a moment. "No."

I felt myself smiling a little. "Then we're in agreement."

"But I've hurt you," she said.

"Yes. And I have hurt you too."

"Let's try to stop doing that," she whispered.

"Good idea," I chuckled.

I pulled her into my embrace and breathed her in. I enjoyed feeling the emotions within her calming—calming because of my words and my touch. I enjoyed it even more when I felt her confidence rising a little.

After a while, however, I felt curiosity and then confusion from her. Sookie sat back up, shaking her head as she broke our embrace in order to look at me. She did not, however, let go of my hand. "I get why I didn't form a bond with Bill, but what about Warlow?"

Immediately, my arrogance soared.

"What?" she asked, clearly seeing the triumph on my face.

"You _should_ have a bond with him," I shrugged. "His blood is older and stronger than mine. And—you are right—you had no _physical_ injury. There are, therefore, only two possible explanations for why our bond has not been superseded because of your making a blood exchange with Warlow."

"What are they?"

"I believe that your light—that thing I see in you—was injured in a tangible way when you discovered that your parents had tried to kill you. However, I think that is was your _guilt_ over their deaths that caused much of that injury. A similar thing happened between the first and second times that I saw you. Your light dimmed for a while back then too."

"It dimmed?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Do you know why?"

"I did not feel your emotions then because you hadn't yet taken my blood, but knowing how you tick now, I'd hazard a guess that your light had dimmed because of guilt then too."

"Guilt?"

"Did you not feel responsible for your grandmother's murder?"

"Oh," she said, a tear rising to her eye. "Yes. I still do sometimes."

I sighed. "And your parents?"

Another tear fell from her eye. I couldn't stop myself from brushing it away, though I refrained from tasting it.

"Yes," she confessed in a whisper. "You're right. I felt guilt over them too."

"But not anymore?" I asked.

"No," she said. "I feel bad, but I know that their deaths weren't my fault—that I was just a kid and couldn't control their actions any more than I could control Warlow's. I did some thinking—what Gran would have called 'soul-searching'—about everything earlier. And I felt," she paused, "better at the end of it."

"Yes," I said, "I can tell. And not just from the bond."

"From my light too?" she asked.

"Yes," I confirmed. "It's not dim anymore."

"Maybe that's because of you," she whispered, looking at me with eyes that held both the remnants of her grief and a lot of hope.

That hope belonged to me.

"Maybe," I said, reaching forward to brush away a final tear.

"And you think that Warlow's blood might have failed to make a bond with me because it was too busy trying to heal my light?"

"Maybe," I responded. "But even if his blood was trying to heal your psyche, it wasn't able to do so completely, or maybe vampire blood cannot heal such wounds. I don't know."

Her brows furrowed. "What's your other theory about why Warlow and I didn't make a bond?"

"That because you are a fairy and supernatural yourself, you rejected the bond with him _before_ it formed," I said smugly, "because you preferred the bond you'd already started."

She chuckled. "And _that_ is the option you prefer?"

"Oh yes," I admitted.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"Is there a way to break ties and bonds?"

I paused before answering. "In a thousand years, I have never heard of a way to break a completed bond. A tie can fade over time, especially if magic is used to help create a fissure. However, the only way I know to eradicate a tie right away is to—in effect—override it with a completed bond."

She took a moment to ponder that information.

"Can vampire blood influence me?" she asked. "I mean—Bill told me some things, but I'm not sure if what he said was all true."

"A vampire's blood will make you feel," I paused, "more positive about the vampire who gave it to you. And it can be used to amplify the feelings you already have."

"So if I were attracted to someone?"

"You'd become more attracted."

"And if I had a crush on him?"

"A crush?"

"Yeah," she said sheepishly. "Before Bill gave me his blood the first time, I thought he was kind of an ass. I mean—I'd supposedly 'saved' him from drainers the night before, but he was kind of creepy to me. On the other hand, his mind was silent, and I was intrigued by him. And I thought he was handsome and mysterious, especially compared to the people I was used to. So—yeah—I guess you could say I had a crush on him."

I nodded. "Multiply those feelings by about ten and you will know what his blood _could_ have done in you."

"_Could_ have done?"

"The vampire must _choose_ to make it so."

"Do you think Bill chose to use his blood that way?" she asked.

"Of course," I said, "at least at first. What he did or intended to do later is less certain, but if you felt your feelings growing noticeably or shifting conspicuously, especially just after having his blood, then it was likely because Bill _wanted_ that to happen."

Recognition and understanding made their way onto her face.

"I can think of _more_ than a few times," she said through clenched teeth.

I nodded. "I'm not surprised, given the last time he gave you blood."

"After I was shot," she said.

"Yeah. Before that, you were wary of Bill—suspicious even—and you," I paused for a moment, steeling my own emotions. "Your hand always sought mine and your heart beat faster for _only_ me when he and I were both in the room with you." I shook my head. "After he saved you with his blood, I felt your turmoil. Between the confusion that his blood caused and seeing me behave as the witch's puppet, you no longer looked at me as you had before."

"And you had your memories again," she said quietly.

I nodded. "Yeah. There was that too."

"I was worried that you'd remember how much you wanted me for _other_ things," she sighed, "things that had nothing to do with love."

"Your telepathy, your blood, your body."

She blushed a little. "Yeah."

"I was not lying when I told you that I wanted _everything_ about you—everything _from_ you—the night after you returned from the fairy realm."

"During that same conversation, you implied that you owned me," she reminded, her anger swirling a bit.

"Every word I said that night was what I truly felt. However, I admit that I could have been," I paused, "more subtle during our conversation."

She chuckled. "Yeah, you were about as subtle as a sledgehammer banging a piano."

"Then how about this? I should have told you that my only purpose in buying this house was to save it for you. I should have told you that I wanted to own you because I already felt owned by you. I should have told you that the 'everything' that I was asking for included so much more than your telepathy and your blood and your body—though I wanted to possess those things too. I should have told you that I didn't—and still don't—know why I _need_ every part of you to belong to me in order to be truly happy. I should have told you that you could have had—could _still_ have—anything of me that you wanted with only a single word."

She gasped at my declaration.

"What word?" she asked in barely a whisper.

I chuckled. "I think any number of words would work, Sookie."

She sighed as she squeezed my hand. We were quiet for a moment, but I could feel her trepidation growing in the bond.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Did you try to influence me with your blood—after you tricked me to take it in Dallas?"

"Yes," I said unapologetically. "At first, I tried to increase your lust for me. Do you remember the meeting with Godric and Nan?"

She nodded.

"During that meeting you had a very difficult time taking your mind off of me—correct?"

"Yeah," she whimpered.

"_That_ was the influence of my blood."

"I felt a pull toward you," she confessed. "I wanted you."

I nodded. "Although you'd swallowed only a few drops, thousand-year-old vampire blood is quite strong. I'd seen your attraction for me before, and I used my blood to amplify that attraction."

"When did you stop doing stuff like that? Did you stop?" she asked cautiously—fearfully.

"That was the only time I did it."

She looked at me skeptically. "But your blood would have given you the upper hand over Bill—right?"

I nodded. "Despite your having more of Bill's blood, mine is much more potent than his."

"And you're not the kind of person not to take advantage of something like that," she commented.

"Normally, you'd be right. But Sookie, you stayed with my maker," I said simply. "I owed you and felt honor-bound to protect you."

"Even from yourself?"

I chuckled. "_Especially_ from myself."

"But I kept dreaming of you."

"My blood would have compelled you to dream about me—especially right after you had it. However, the dreams are separate from the tie and, therefore, cannot be directly controlled by the vampire. Like all dreams, the content would speak more of your own desires and anxieties than the vampire's."

She seemed to be processing that information.

"You'll have to tell me about the dreams you had of me one day," I commented as I saw a smile playing at her lips.

She blushed. "You really have no idea of the dreams' content?"

"No," I said, "but given the way you feel about them and that little smile on your face, my curiosity is piqued."

Her blush deepened. "You were nice in them—affectionate even."

I chuckled. "How very unlike me."

She shook her head. "Except with me."

She was right. "Except with you," I concurred.

"You didn't try to influence me after we exchanged blood in the cubby—did you?"

"No," I confirmed.

"Not even when you got your memories back."

"Not even then," I said, sitting forward a little.

She stood up, but didn't drop my hand, so I stood up with her.

"I put clean sheets on the cubby bed earlier," she said, gesturing toward the cubby entrance.

"Are you sending me there without my dinner?" I asked with a smirk.

"No," she chuckled. "We're gonna start off in my bedroom; I just wanted you to know that the cubby sheets are clean in case I'm asleep by the time you have to go down there."

"You won't be," I promised with a growl. "If you are inviting me to your bed, then you shouldn't plan on sleeping until I can no longer fight the pull of the sun."

Her face flushed to a nice shade a pink, but before the color could darken, I pulled her into my arms. She gasped a little, and I could hear her heart rate increase in anticipation.

"I have missed you in my arms, Sookie Stackhouse," I whispered, my lips hovering only inches from hers.

"I've missed you too, Eric Northman," she half-moaned and half-whimpered.

"When we had sex before, I was forced to go by instinct," I said, moving my lips fractionally closer to hers. "Tonight, I will make sure you have the benefit of _all_ of my thousand years."

Her only response was to quickly close the rest of the distance between our lips.

* * *

**A/N: Hello all! As always, thanks so much for the comments about the last chapter! I appreciate all the support that this story continues to get! And thanks for all the personal support too. **

**I'd intended to post this chapter earlier, but "real life" threw a curve ball at me, and I didn't duck in time. **

**Anyway, I hope that you enjoy this chapter. I'll try to get the next one to you soon.**

**Best,**

**Kat **


	8. Chapter 8: Mutual Surrender

**Chapter 8: Mutual Surrender**

_Love is an attempt at penetrating another being, but it can only succeed if the surrender is mutual"—_Octavio Paz

* * *

_Sookie POV_

His lips moved against mine as if they were aiming to create a paradox. Hard and soft. Forceful and gentle. Demanding and giving. Lustful and loving.

The first time we kissed had been in his office at Fangtasia; I'd intended to push him away, but had eventually melted into him.

The second time we kissed was on my porch. I'd just called him to come back to me, and all I could think about was how much it would hurt if he would have kept walking away into the night. After we'd kissed that time, I simply couldn't imagine ever getting enough of him.

We'd kissed _many_ times after that—all wonderful, all transformative. All leaving me with the feeling that I'd been flying.

But this time—this kiss—was _more_.

Yes. It was _more_ for a lot of reasons. But the biggest one was _surrender_.

I could feel it. Heck—I could sense it in the way we were holding onto each other! We were both surrendering.

I'd made mistakes. I'd been inconsistent because my feelings had been tattered from years of reconciling myself to settling for a life without romantic love and then months of being in a relationship with the queen's procurer—not to mention the vampire blood I'd been fed by Bill and, to a lesser extent, Eric.

The list of people who had died because of me seemed to be growing every day: my parents, my molester uncle, Gran, Rene, my grandpa Earl, Tara. Eric had been right. Even if a few of the people on that list had done or were doing wrong when they were killed, that fact hadn't really curbed my guilt that much. And that didn't even count all the fairies at the club. Unintentionally, I'd told their killer exactly where they were hiding.

I'd been almost killed by a serial killer, almost clawed to death by a Maenad, almost raped, almost killed by a bomb, almost drained by Bill, almost killed by Russell, almost forced to stay in the fairy world, almost killed by witches, and then almost killed by Debbie. My life had been too full of "almosts." Maybe that was why I was now holding onto Eric for dear life.

Throughout all the things that had happened, Eric had stayed—well—_Eric_. Always strong and always protective. His maker had died, his sister had died, and he'd faced down multiple catastrophes, but there was something fundamentally steady about him. Though he hurt, his strength—and, yes, his faith—didn't diminish; if anything he became more resilient because of the trials he'd been forced to endure.

Before he'd been cursed by the witch, he'd been arrogant and highhanded, but also infuriatingly charming and even kind at times. However, I'd been afraid of him—mostly because of the false picture Bill had painted of him and because of how Eric made me feel: vulnerable. In truth, I'd felt guilty that Eric made me "feel" at all; I was _supposed_ to be "with Bill," after all.

When Eric lost his memories, I managed to shelve my fears and to operate on instinct. Meanwhile, Eric had been the same infuriatingly charming and kind man; otherwise, he'd have never gotten into my bed within days. I certainly didn't have sex with him because I felt sorry for him, and he _certainly_ wasn't shy about letting his arrogance come to the surface at times, especially just after he'd left me a satisfied, orgasmic wreck. In fact, though he was without his memories and seemed uncertain of himself sometimes, I could still see all the facets of his personality that I had seen before. The _only_ difference was that he showed me his softer side without hesitation or fear, instead of trying to hide it from me as he'd done before.

After the curse had been lifted, _I_—that's right, Sookie Stackhouse—had been the one who'd gone back to being ruled by fear. Every time Eric had interacted with me, however, he'd been the same man I'd let myself fall in love with—just _more_. So much more. He hadn't been afraid to let his feelings be known to me. He'd made himself vulnerable, but I couldn't do the same. Instead, I'd walked away, feeding myself the lie that "my Eric" was gone and that I couldn't love the arrogant, high-handed sheriff he'd gone back to being.

But the thing was that I did love that Eric—_all_ of Eric. I had just been too chicken-shit to let myself be vulnerable.

Not anymore.

Gasping a little, I pulled quickly away from his talented lips and tongue.

"Sookie?" he asked uncertainly.

"Remember," I panted, "I still need oxygen. And," I started.

"And?" he asked, even as he lifted me into his arms bridal style. My arms twined automatically around his neck.

"I wanted to tell you something."

"What?"

"I like your ego. Love it—actually."

"My ego?"

"Yes. And your arrogance. And when _you_ call me yours."

He stopped in his tracks. "You love it when I call you mine?" he asked in disbelief.

I smiled at him. "Well—mostly."

"Mostly?"

"I don't like being a weapon in some supernatural dick-measuring contest."

He smirked as he recommenced walking us toward Gran's old room. I'd moved into it fully now, though the first night I'd spent in it had been with Eric.

"Surely, lover, I would _easily_ win such a contest with your other suitors," he said cockily.

"Uh-oh, I never should have told you that I found your arrogance endearing," I giggled.

"But you did, and now I have free license to extol all my perfect qualities with impunity," he chuckled, "_starting_ with the superiority of my dick."

"You're so sure of yourself?" I asked, teasingly.

He nodded as he placed me gently onto the bed. But his smirk soon faded.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Being able to tell other vampires that you are mine is a weapon, Sookie. It is how I can keep others from claiming you."

"I know, Eric," I said. "And I'll work on getting used to that part."

"Make no mistake, Sookie," he said backing away from the bed a little. "Once we do what we are about to do, you _will_ be mine, and I won't give you up. _Never_! So if you have any remaining uncertainty about me or about us, you should tell me now."

"I don't," I said with conviction.

He looked down at me, and I could see the hesitation in his eyes. He took another step backwards.

It was the wrong direction, and suddenly I was afraid that he might decide I wasn't worth the trouble.

"Do _you_—um—have any doubts?" I asked softly.

"I want you to be mine, Sookie Stackhouse. I have always wanted you."

"But?" I asked, my voice shaking through the single, short word.

"But it is a risk," he admitted. "I would not," he paused, "react well if you turned away from me again."

"Eric," I said, moving so that I was sitting more upright on the bed. I know that I've hurt you. I know that I've rejected what we had and what we could have. And I get that I don't really deserve your trust, but I still want it. And," I stopped.

"_And_?" he asked, taking a step toward me.

I breathed a sigh of relief that he'd not moved farther from me. It was time to lay my cards on the table and to give him the kind of assurance that would make him trust me with his heart again. I knew that—in the future—he and I would likely disagree and argue. But one mistake I'd _never_ make again was turning my back on Eric Northman and the love we had for each other. It was too precious to waste.

"And if I ever break your trust again, I give you permission to drain me," I answered him.

I knew that he could feel my seriousness because of the surprise in his eyes. "_And_ turn you?" he asked, raising the stakes.

"Yes," I answered immediately.

His mouth gaped in surprise; Gran would have said that he was "catching flies." It was "cute," though I wasn't going to say that adjective out loud.

"I'm not giving you _carte blanche_ to turn me, Eric," I said.

"I know," he replied softly. "Am I correct to assume that you would prefer not to be vampire?"

I took a deep breath. "I'm not sure. But in the past, I would have rejected the notion outright."

"And now?"

I sighed. "I'm tired of being a hypocrite, Eric," I said, feeling an odd mixture of defeat and victory in that statement. "_I_ made the choice for Tara to become a vampire, even though I knew she wouldn't want it, because_ I_ didn't want to lose her—because_ I_ felt responsible for Debbie shooting her. There was a whole lot of _me_ and none of her in that choice. So to say I wouldn't entertain the notion of becoming a vampire now would make me an even worse person that I already am."

He took another step forward and reached out to touch my cheek. "You make mistakes sometimes, but you aren't a bad person, Sookie Stackhouse," he said softly. "In fact, I think that your trying to be a good person—to everyone _but_ yourself—is what often leads you to trouble."

I smiled at the acceptance in his eyes. I wasn't aware that a tear had fallen down my cheek until he collected it with his thumb and raised it to his lips.

"What does that taste like?" I asked.

He closed his eyes and his tone took on a faraway quality as he spoke. "When I was human, my people lived on the sea coast, and fish was a staple of our diets. Herrings were the most abundant and the most easily preserved. We would hang them so that the wind would dry them. And then we would salt them." He smiled but his eyes remained shut. "Unless it was a time of scarcity, my mother would let me eat them as a snack whenever I wanted—with butter. It was one of my favorite dishes." He opened his eyes. "Your skin reminds me of that combination of tastes when I kiss you—a little salty and so goddamned smooth that it threatens to melt me. Your tear is like a concentration of that taste."

I gasped at his words and at the fact that he'd shared such a memory with me. I was greedy for more and said a quick prayer that I'd have years—and not just one night—to hear such stories from him.

"So—um—I taste like fish?" I asked, deciding to tease him a little so that I wouldn't fall into tears because of the anxiety I felt over what he'd soon be facing at the Vamp Camp.

"A little," he chuckled.

"And my blood?" I asked.

He licked his lips. "I never had anything that could rival it during my human life. I have no words for it."

I pushed back an irksome fear that Eric wanted me only for my blood. I knew that fleeting notion was a byproduct of my lingering insecurity, trying to poke its way into my brain and make me doubt myself and Eric. But I was finished allowing that to happen.

"Are you hungry now, Eric?" I asked, my voice a little raspy.

"I am always hungry for you," he said, his eyes flaming and looking downright predatory.

"Then eat," I whispered.

When vampires move fast, it is sometimes difficult to follow along. Almost as soon as I said those two words, I was flat on my back on my bed, and Eric was on top of me, his tongue already dueling with mine in a fervent kiss. My T-shirt was off, though I didn't remember it going over my head. I'd not been wearing a bra, and one very large hand and five long, talented fingers were already making the most of that fact, traveling from one breast to the other. My nipples were already taut and straining for more before I'd even registered that his jacket was also off. I "caught up" a little as I raised my hands to his bare arms and began to caress his supple skin.

I still wasn't the most experienced woman when it came to sex, but I understood one thing instinctively, and that was "fit." Eric's mouth just "fit" with mine, and it wasn't just a size thing or a shape thing. It was the amount of pressure he put against my lips at any given time and the way his tongue moved with mine. I felt like Goldilocks as Eric trailed his kisses from my lips to my cheek at just the "right" moment so that I could steal a breath.

"Just right," I half-mumbled and half-moaned as he moved to my chin and then neck. I let my hands rove over Eric's broad shoulders and wondered briefly what had happened to his shirt. As he sucked a little on my neck, I decided that the location of our clothing didn't matter—as long as it was _off_. It seemed that Eric had the same idea. His hands were already loosening the drawstring on my flannel pajama bottoms, and seconds later, they—along with my panties—had migrated to places unknown.

"God, you're efficient when it comes to removing clothes," I said with another breathy moan.

He chuckled from between my legs, though I couldn't remember when exactly he'd moved down there.

"That is not all I am efficient at, lover," he said, his face about an inch from my clit. He blew air onto my bundle of nerves and then all around my lady bits. But he hadn't yet touched me. It was exquisitely frustrating.

"Keep looking at me," he ordered, his voice deeper than I'd ever heard it.

I could only nod.

I'd not had much experience with oral sex. Bill had done it for me a few times, but it had always felt like a prelude to a bite. And Warlow and I hadn't engaged in any foreplay. That level of closeness hadn't been my goal when I fucked him.

When he didn't have his memories, Eric and I had set a record for positions and orgasms over a two-night span, but we'd not had oral sex. He was always so anxious to be inside of me, and I was just as anxious to have him there.

Seeing Eric poised between my legs and ready to devour my lady parts, however, made me quake with anticipation and brought goose bumps to my flesh.

He gave me one of his half-smirks and half-smiles before diving in.

"Oh God!" I moaned as he flattened his tongue and licked me from my opening to my clit.

"Cloudberries," he moaned before continuing to lap up my arousal.

"Cloudberries?" I muttered shakily, thinking I must have heard him wrong.

He stopped his actions and looked up at me. "You've never had them?"

I grunted. "What?" I tried to use my thighs to get him to go back to work, cursing myself for asking him to clarify what he'd moaned out.

He grinned at my impatience. "Cloudberries are similar to blackberries, but sweeter. They grow wild in Sweden. I'll have to get you some so that you can see just how delicious they are." He paused, and I was about to kick him for giving me a berry lesson when what I wanted was head! However, before I could, he growled and his eyes dilated as he looked down at my sex as if it were a bowlful of whatever he was talking about. "The nectar from your body is even better than cloudberries."

I'm pretty sure that every single inch of me blushed a deep crimson, but I didn't really care as Eric began licking my folds again. It was becoming more and more clear that vampires enjoyed all human fluids, which was a good thing—a _very_ good thing—because I'd never felt more capable of producing so much liquid in my life! Eric slipped a finger into me slowly, his gaze locked with mine as he kissed my clit before licking it repeatedly with some kind of vampire-speed tongue vibration thing that made my Rabbit seem like a tortoise!

I wanted to tell him that his thousand years had been well spent—_very_ well spent. I wanted to ask him who'd taught him his tongue trick so that I could shake her hand or put flowers on her grave—_anything_ to show my gratitude! However, the only sound from my mouth was a grunt. Inelegant, but all I could manage.

I felt my body writhing under his touch, but he kept me steady with one of his hands. His other continued to maneuver his long finger in and out of me. Soon, a second finger joined the first, and then he began to curve them toward where his tongue was still performing magic on my clit.

As soon as he touched my G-spot, I exploded with my orgasm. I think I yelled out his name, but I wasn't certain. It could have been another grunt. All that I could focus on was the feral look in his eyes as he moved his mouth from my clit to my opening in order to taste my release. Of course, what he did with his tongue once he got there managed to intensify and prolong the waves of my orgasm.

Yes—a thousand years _very_ well spent!

My next coherent thought was of Eric trailing kisses up my body. I felt his bare legs against mine and knew that he'd managed to take off his shoes, socks, and pants without my being aware that he'd even broken contact with my body. Sometimes vampire speed was a great thing!

"I was a fool for not tasting you like that before," he said, hovering over me.

"You can do that anytime you want," I managed, though I felt myself blushing again. "Just as long as I can return the favor."

"I will take you up on that offer—another time. Right now, I can wait no longer," he growled before his lips came crashing down on mine. Once again swept away by our kiss, I was sent into pleasure overload as he entered me.

"Oh God," I murmured as I took a breath and adjusted to the size of him. Meanwhile, his lips moved to other pursuits: my cheeks, my neck, my collarbone, my breasts, my earlobes. Hell—his talented lips and tongue felt like they were everywhere at once. And everywhere they went, they trailed fire with them.

"You feel so fucking good, lover," he grunted as he pumped in and out of me slowly. I wrapped my legs around his hips, trying to meet his thrusts, trying to get closer to him—glad that I wasn't the only one reduced to grunting, but jealous that he could still form words out of the sounds. I took that as a challenge.

As I tightened my legs around his hips, he moaned in pleasure at our closeness, but kept up his pace. He did, however, stop producing coherent words. That was probably about the same time I stopped producing coherent thoughts, however.

We moved together for a while, speeding up and then slowing down to prolong our ecstasy—both of us capable of little more than just hanging onto each other and enjoying the pleasure we were giving and receiving.

I screamed out in ecstasy as he suddenly changed our position a little and thrust upward. To say he'd found my G-spot would have been an understatement. He found it, landed on it, claimed it, and planted a flag on it!

However, he stopped his movements as the tip of his cock was millimeters from hitting that spot a second time.

"Do I win?" he asked, his expression half-wild and half-playful.

"Huh?" I asked inelegantly as I tried to wrap my legs around him tighter in order to force him to move just a little deeper.

"The contest," he reminded, managing a smirk through his otherwise stirred-up expression.

God he was handsome.

That was my only thought for a moment—well, that and the fact that I wanted him to move. Now!

"Huh?" I asked again when he didn't move—not even a fraction of an inch!

"The measuring contest," he said, his smirk deepening.

My mind flew through our earlier conversation as if looking for the answer to a riddle. Oh yes—the dick-measuring contest.

"Yes," I answered quickly. "You win by at least an inch."

"Only an inch?" he asked, looking a bit disconcerted.

"It's a _very_ important inch," I said, once again trying to get him to move just that inch in order to stimulate my G-spot again. "Plus," I added, trying to make my tone sound more playful than pleading, "you are thicker _and_ turn me into Goldilocks."

"Huh?" It was his turn to ask a question inelegantly.

"Just right," I responded.

He smiled as he recalled the folktale and then moved fractionally forward. It wasn't quite enough, but it was getting there.

"Are you saying that I'm perfect for you, lover?" he asked.

"Yes," I said sincerely—and not even so that he'd move again. "You are."

He leaned down and kissed me, this time less feverously and more gently. He began rocking in and out of me again, but like his kiss, his thrusts became gentler—tender.

And for the first time in my life, I felt like someone was making love to me. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the feeling—and to him—_completely_.

"Surrender" was a beautiful word.

My body matched Eric's in a flawless rhythm, and my mind seemed to be moving with his too. The moment was perfection itself.

Sweet surrender.

An orgasm hit me out of nowhere, having been building up and up and up—because of the fact that Eric was a master—_the_ master—when it came to having sex. But—mostly—because I loved him.

Pace, pressure, precision—all mastered by him. Proficient, patient, passionate, playful, poignant, pure—all accurate when describing him.

_Perfect_. Yes—Eric had justification for his arrogance.

And I loved that he _knew_ how great he was—and still strived to better himself.

My walls crashed around him again and again, and he cried out my name right as I felt him swell and release into me.

And _then_ he bit, and all the ecstasy was multiplied.

I'm not sure how long my orgasm lasted. It seemed like hours as I got lost in the waves of pleasure we'd shared. I felt him licking my neck—healing me—and I shivered at the added stimulation. It was too much, but I still wanted more.

"Sookie," he whispered, his voice reverent and quiet, "open your eyes."

As soon as I had, I saw a light, wrapping itself around us both. It was a "warm" color, golden almost.

"_This_ is the light I see from you all the time," he said, his voice demonstrating his wonder, "though now it is brighter, and this is the first time it has embraced me. Do you see it?"

I gasped. "Yes."

He smiled down at me, and I noticed that his strong arms were flexed, holding him steady and still above me. "Do you remember the day you found me in the sun?"

"You were playing in the water," I responded, reaching up to caress his cheek. "I was so scared that you might burn in the sun."

He nodded. "Your light feels like the sun did when it was warming my back that day."

"I'm glad," I said, as more tears suddenly came to my eyes. This time, they were happy tears. However, a moment later, fear hit me like a ton of bricks.

"What is wrong, lover?" he asked.

"I'm scared. I don't want to lose you—not right after I've finally gotten my shit together."

I realized that he'd entered me once more. Or perhaps he'd never left. He started moving again, gently gliding in and out of me.

"I will not make false promises about our safety," he said resting his forehead against mine. "We live dangerous lives. But I promise that I will be as careful as I can, and you must promise the same."

I nodded, but my tears didn't stop. Eric didn't stop either. He kept moving in me—_loving_ me—his weight like a safety blanket.

By the time he took us to our second shared orgasm, my tears had stopped and I was once again swept up into the moment of pleasure. The light had intensified; I wanted to use it to hug him to me—to keep him close forever.

He finally pulled out of me and repositioned us so that I was lying on his broad chest.

"Eric?" I asked after several minutes had passed.

"Yes, lover?"

"Will you complete the bond with me?"

"I want to," he said without hesitating. "I would _very_ much like to exchange blood with you again, but I will not complete the bond with you until after I have faced my enemies. If I were to die the true death with us already bonded, it would hurt you physically."

"It would?" I asked.

"Yes. You would feel the bond breaking—dying—as vampires feel bonds with their makers or progenies breaking. In fact, it would likely be even worse. I would spare you that pain."

He sighed.

"What else?" I asked, intuiting that there was more.

He sighed again—_so_ not a good sign.

"On occasion, the death of one member of a bonded pair has been known to kill the other—though _slowly_," he informed.

"How?" I asked.

"The best analogy I can give you is of a human couple who has been together for many, many years. When one of them dies, the other sometimes wastes away and follows quickly."

"So I'd die of a broken heart if we bonded and you," my voice caught, "died?"

"Maybe," he confirmed.

"Would the same thing happen to you?"

"Sometimes—if the bond is strong—the vampire will feel compelled to meet the sun not long after his or her bonded dies."

"Then why would you want to bond with me at all?" I asked incredulously. "You've lived so long! I couldn't bear to know that I was the reason you met the sun!"

Eric raised my chin. "Do you not see _this_?" he asked, gesturing to the light that was still encompassing us. "_This_ is worth _anything_. Plus—if I wasn't meant to die—I would live through the bond breaking, just as you would. Honestly, there is an even better reason for us to wait, however."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Once we fully bond, no one else could form a bond or a tie with you, even if I were dead. You could not even be healed by another vampire again. Your body would reject the blood."

"So?" I asked. "I wouldn't want a tie or a bond with anyone else. And wouldn't that be a good way to keep me away from Bill and Warlow?"

He sighed. "Yes, but without me there to protect you, you would be subject to their wrath. I would be especially fearful of Warlow's reaction once he found out that you would reject his blood. And," he paused, "if we cannot complete the bond because I have died, then I want you to have," he paused, "options."

I sat up quickly. "I don't want options!"

"You might need them," he said reasonably. He smoothed my hair behind my ear. "If I am gone, you may have to choose one of them in order to survive."

"No!" I insisted vehemently. "Now that I've stepped forward, I won't go backwards! Whether I finish a bond with you or not, I won't ever settle for anything less than what you and I have!"

"Even if that gets you killed?" he asked, his tone showing his mounting frustration—or maybe it was fear.

"Yes!"

He sat up. "You are the most stubborn fucking creature I've ever met, Sookie Stackhouse!"

"Just trying to keep up with your pigheadedness and highhandedness in deciding what is best for _my_ life without asking me!" I yelled. "In case you've missed it, I've picked _you_—you obstinate A-hole! And _that_ makes me _your_ stubborn creature—for better or worse!"

"Mine?" he asked a little more calmly, a smirk competing with his glower.

"Yes!" I took a deep breath and settled myself down. "Tell me something—if I were to die, would you bond with someone else, even if it could save your life?"

He closed his eyes as if in pain. "No," he relented.

After a moment, his eyes opened and locked onto mine. We sat there silently for a while before getting more comfortable. I lay back against the headboard and drew my knees up. He lay against them, caressing long lines up and down my legs. Somehow I could tell that he was moving chess pieces around in his mind; I just prayed to God that he could figure out a way to win with _both_ the king and the queen safe at the end of the game.

"Sookie, how far would you go to get that 'other life' with me?" he asked, looking intently into my eyes.

"As far as I have to," I responded immediately.

"Would you exchange blood with me—now?"

"Yes," I said, surprised that I felt no hesitation whatsoever. He looked a little surprised too.

"You are sure?" he asked.

"Yes," I responded with a smile. "After all, it's the only practical move—right?"

"Practical?"

"Yes—I assume that there is some kind of waiting period between exchanges," I posited.

He chuckled. "Yeah. The full cycle of the sun is the minimum."

"I can also see your brain spinning like a turbine, so I _know_ there's a plan brewing in there."

"How can you . . . ," he started.

I grinned. "Your head is like a void to me in a lot of ways—just like other vampire minds. But right now, it feels like it's whirling around with the light."

"You're amazing," he said, pulling me to him and kissing me softly.

"You're the man with the plan—right?" I asked when I took a breath.

"Yes," he responded.

"Then in my book, you're the amazing one."

* * *

**A/N: Hello! I hope that there aren't more typos in this than usual. LOL. I got so many awesome comments and words of encouragement with the last chapter that I wanted to get this one out ASAP! **

**I continue to be so happy to hear that many of you are enjoying my version of events. Tomorrow is the finale, and I have my fingers crossed about it (and toes. Hell—I braided my hair!).**

**Some of you commented about the bond/tie scenario I have set up in this story. If you know my other work, you might recognize that my description of/conception of the bonds and ties is a little different in each, though I try to stay pretty consistent with what I know of the "canon." However, in the books—I think—a tie can lead to a bond if enough exchanges are made (though those exchanges don't have to be done at the same time). In the show, I'm honestly not sure! Sookie seems to be taking Bill's blood at almost every turn (Rattray beating, Maenad, hospital after the van incident, in Fangtasia, after Sookie was shot, and there might be others that aren't coming to me)! And Bill seems to think that sex cannot happen without **_**lots**_** of biting and spilled blood (note the contrast with amnesiac Eric, who would have—supposedly—had less control). So—I guess that what I'm saying in answer to your queries is that the way that I have presented the bond/tie in this story is **_**hopefully**_** consistent (as much as it is possible) with the source, which is the show in this case. However, given the "confusion" in the show, it's sometimes hard to be consistent. ;)**

**Again, thanks for reading!**

**Cheers,**

Kat


	9. Chapter 9: Time to Say Goodbye

**Chapter 9: Time to Say Goodbye **

_From _"Time to Say Goodbye" ("Con te partirò") _ written by Francesco Sartori (music) and Lucio Quarantotto (lyrics), sung by Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman (English translations following)_

_Time to say goodbye. _

_Con te partirò (I'll go with you)_

_Paesi che non ho mai (to countries I never)_

_veduto e vissuto con te, (saw and shared with you,)_

_adesso sì li vivrò. (now, yes, I shall experience them.)_

_Con te partirò (I'll go with you)_

_su navi per mari (on ships across seas)_

_che, io lo so, (which, I know,)_

_no, no, non esistono più; (no, no, exist no longer;)_

_it's time to say goodbye. _

_Con te io li vivrò. (With you I shall experience them.)_

* * *

_**Sookie POV**_

I was wearing the black dress again; thus, I knew that the little dribble of liquid that landed on it wouldn't leave a stain—and, even if it did, it wouldn't show once it was dry. Of course, I didn't care anyway. The dress wasn't something I was planning on wearing again.

"I spilled a little," I said apologetically, hoping that fact wouldn't somehow ruin the "spell."

"Oh—don't you worry 'bout that," Holly said with a wink. "I always give about twice as much as needed 'cause the first drink usually ends up spat on the floor." She laughed. "You did much better than most do."

"So—uh—this will work? You're sure?" I asked with a wince as I contemplated whether I should continue sipping the "potion" or just finish it like a shot of hard alcohol.

"It always has before," Holly assured. "At least, as long as it's taken no more than a week after," she lowered her voice, "the sex."

"But—uh—like I told you, the guy was a fairy," I said. "_And_ a vampire."

Holly just shrugged, looking unconcerned. "I don't see why the potion wouldn't work." She leaned in and lowered her voice even more. "Trust me—if the fella had living swimmers, this'll get 'em. I even added lemon juice to the mix since you said he was a fairy, and they react to that like a vamp to silver."

"How do you know?" I asked her.

"Because the quadruplets' mother told Andy that full-blooded fairies have an aversion to iron and lemon. That way, he could keep an eye out to make sure that they didn't have any," she paused, "similar allergies."

"And that's why you asked if I was allergic to lemons?"

"Yep," Holly confirmed. "Plus, you said that you're on the pill—right?"

I nodded. "And it's the wrong time of the month for me to conceive," I added. "But I just needed to make sure—what with him and me both being part fairy."

She nodded. "There's no harm in being cautious," she agreed.

I made a mental note to take an iron supplement and pack the rest when I got home. I was thankful that Holly wasn't shocked or horrified to find out that a fairy-vampire hybrid existed or that I was dumb enough to have had condomless sex with him. Then again, though I didn't know her well, she'd always seemed like the kind of person who would roll with the punches. And her mind was one of the least judgmental that I'd ever come across.

"And—if your aura is any indication, I don't think you have anything to worry about," Holly said after studying me for a moment. "I don't sense any little one in you. You just don't have the motherhood glow about you. However, your love aura is _real_ bright right now."

"You see it?" I asked her, wondering if she could see the light that had finally faded—at least to my eyes, but not to Eric's—a little before sunrise.

"Your aura?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Sure," she said. "I see everyone's. It's what you might call my witch gift."

"What does it look like?" I asked with curiosity.

"Like a little haze around everyone. But it can change color with—uh—situation. Pregnant women get a greenish hue around them almost right away. But yours is definitely reddish. That usually indicates that someone is feeling great love."

"Good to know," I blushed—probably adding to the red of my aura. After taking a deep breath, I finishing off the truly horrific 'herbal remedy' Holly had brought me in one long and agonizing gulp. It was worth it, however. The last thing I needed was an unexpected bundle of joy fathered by the fairy-vampire who wanted to own me.

"I—uh—can't imagine that you'd want _that_," she said, motioning toward the now-empty thermos in my hands, "if you were worried about having a kid with the person that gave you that aura." She was still speaking quietly, though she needn't have bothered since we were in a secluded part of the Bellefleur garden.

I sighed. "I made a mistake with Warlow."

"Is that the fairy-vamp?" she asked.

I nodded. "The truth is that I'm in love with someone else, and from now on, I'm going to be a one vampire woman." I grinned. "_He's_ why you're seeing the red aura."

"Not Bill—surely!" she protested.

"Definitely not," I responded.

She smiled. "The blonde? The tall one?"

"Yeah," I smiled back, glad to be able to tell someone who was truly happy for me. "Eric."

"He was cute," she winked.

I wasn't about to comment on the fact that her definition of "cute" also included Andy Bellefleur.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"His aura was _real_ interestin'," she teased with a wink.

"You can see vampires' auras too?" I asked.

"Of course," she answered, as if it were nothing. "Just so you know—his was red too. With a little golden glow in it. _And_ your auras seemed to want to swirl around together when you were close to each other."

I gasped.

"By the way—your aura has the _exact_ shade of gold tinging it as his does." She looked at me knowingly. "I figured it'd just be a matter of time till y'all were together. People with the exact same color like that can't hide from each other for very long." She winked and then continued wistfully, "Most folks don't ever find that."

I sighed. I wanted to kick myself for almost squandering the gift I'd found with Eric. Instead, I smiled at my friend. "Thanks for telling me all this, Holly."

"I thought you might like some confirmation," she said with a shrug. "We all need a little now and then."

I nodded. I was _finally_ to the point that I didn't need outside confirmation, but it was nice to have nonetheless. "What about Bill's aura?" I asked out of curiosity.

"His was always muddled with various colors before. Now it's gray and still—kind of scary."

I nodded. That sounded about right.

"So—you said on the phone that you had somethin' else to talk to me about?" Holly asked as she sat down on a bench and picked a piece of lint off of her black dress. We had snuck out of the Bellefleur house "for some air" so that I could drink the potion. However, Holly's mind told me that she wasn't in a hurry to go back in—not at all. Arlene would be busy feeding Mikey for a while, and Portia, apparently, had been "hinting" to Holly for the last half hour that her grandmother Caroline wouldn't approve if another Bellefleur boy married a "lowly and humble waitress." Holly had refrained from punching Portia—at least as of yet—only out of respect for Arlene and the solemn occasion. However, she had been contemplating some spells that might leave Portia unable to speak—indefinitely. She'd been glad for the chance to get away from Andy's overbearing relatives.

"Yeah," I said. "Thanks for your help _already_ though—with this," I said, lifting the empty thermos. "But I need your advice on something else too." I took a deep breath. "My great-grandfather has been sent to some kind of other realm or dimension. I'm not sure what to call it. Would you have any idea how to get him back?"

"Another realm?" Holly asked, her tone a mixture of excitement and wonder.

"Yeah. The entrance to it is in the middle of that old bridge just south of town. The thing is—my great-grandfather is a full-blooded fairy."

Holly looked both determined and excited. "A full-blooded fairy! Cool! That means that if he wants to get back here, he'll eventually find a way himself. But I'll look into it anyway. I know a few older witches that might know more, and I'll see what I can do. Maybe we can help him along."

I sighed with relief and took Holly's hand. "I really appreciate it." I smiled. "You're a good person, Holly, and the way that you've been helping out Arlene . . . ." I paused. "Well—let me put it this way: I've heard all the heads in Bon Temps, and yours is pretty much the nicest one in town."

She smiled. "Thanks." There was a moment of silence between us. "Hey. Are you alright, sugar?" she asked.

"I'm okay," I said.

"Well—just let me know if you need anything else," she offered kindly.

"Well, could you help me with one last thing—just so that I don't have to go back in there?" I gestured toward the house. "My shields are pretty shot right now."

She nodded. "Sure thing."

"Could you ask Arlene, Andy, Lafayette, and Sam and meet me out here in twenty minutes or so? And could you come back too? I need to tell y'all about something important."

Holly nodded. "Sure, hon. I think I can do that." She winked. "By then, Portia and Caroline will have made us _all_ need to take a break."

I took her hand and squeezed it. "Thanks."

She smiled and got up to go back into the house. I smiled too. She really was a good person—good for the whole town and really good for Andy too.

I glanced at my watch. It was a little after noon. Terry's funeral had begun at 10:00, and I really needed to be on the road by 1:30.

But I had a lot that I needed to do before then. Oh—my physical packing had been completed quickly. I was taking only one bag, full of mostly nondescript clothing and just a picture or two—nothing anyone would notice was missing. I'd decided to leave Gran's and my "treasures" in the attic—in the care of the house.

It had taken longer to wash Eric's clothing to get the dirt from Nora's grave off of them than it had for me to decide what to take with me. All I really needed, after all, was the Viking in the cubby.

I sighed and closed my eyes. It had been a night _and_ a day for saying goodbyes. And there were more coming.

Terry's funeral had been a lovely mixture of heartfelt words and ceremony, ending with a twenty-one gun salute. All told, the service had lasted for thirty-eight minutes.

I sighed again. Thirty-eight minutes to say goodbye to a life that had been a part of mine for many years. I'd liked Terry from the start; his mind may have been bruised from war, but it was kind and straightforward—honorable.

I sat heavily onto a bench in the garden, focusing what was left of my shields on protecting me from all the thoughts coming from the Bellefleur house. There were a mixture of grief and pettiness—a horrifying combination.

The hardest part of being a telepath was being around people when their emotions were ratcheted up. It was as if their thoughts and feelings were projected onto a particular target—in this case: me. Thus, the usual din of thoughts that I got from individuals became much denser—more concentrated.

But none of that had been as difficult as hearing Arlene's thoughts as Terry's casket was lowered into the ground. Her mind was awhirl with grief and anger. Terry had—almost certainly—asked someone to kill him because of the things that had happened to him during his time in the military, as well as because of the "monsters" that still followed him. He'd left a huge life insurance policy for Arlene, but she could think only about the fact that she'd exchange every penny of it for one more hour with Terry.

I sighed and thought about Terry's decision. Was it—in the end—that different from Godric's has been? They'd both reached the limit of what they could bear, and they'd both chosen to end their lives. I could see it from their side in a way. But I also thought about what was left behind in the wake of their deaths. Eric—despite seeming to be so strong—had been shattered by Godric's meeting the sun. And Arlene and her children would always hurt because of Terry's choice.

I brushed away a tear and said a silent prayer. I prayed that Terry's soul was finally at peace. And I prayed that Arlene, Lisa, Coby, and Mikey would be "okay" eventually.

I decided to slip off my shoes for a few minutes. The high heels I was wearing were not doing my feet any favors; in fact, if I'd not had vampire blood just a few hours before, I'm sure that I would have had blisters by now. I smiled. Then again, according to Eric, the blood he'd given me would be _much_ too busy attending to our strengthening bond to be dealing with my sore feet.

I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy the memory of Eric and my second blood exchange, which had led to another amazing and surreal experience. Instead of snow and a bed with furs, however, we had been "transported" to a meadow full of wildflowers and monarch butterflies. There, we'd made love for what seemed to be hours but actually turned out to be only minutes of "real time."

Surreal indeed.

When we "came back to ourselves," we were in the cubby, where we'd decided—for the sake of nostalgia—to make our second exchange. If things went as planned, the third couldn't take place there, so we'd decided to take advantage while we could. Plus it was safer since we'd had no idea what the effects of our second blood-swap might be.

After our exchange and the resulting "trip" we took, Eric made some calls with one of the disposable phones he'd stashed in the cubby. As he did, he added another few elements to his plan—_our_ plan now. And then we cuddled, holding each other as we went over the plan a few more times, adding and augmenting as needed.

It was risky and we'd both be giving up a lot, but there was a lot more to be gained.

I pulled out my phone and called Alcide.

"Hey," I said when he answered after two rings, "is everything going okay?"

"Yes," he answered a bit gruffly. "I'm on my way there now, but," he paused.

"But?" I asked.

"Are you sure about all of this? I mean _really_ sure?"

"Yes," I said simply. Alcide had called and woken me up only an hour after dawn that morning, so I'd gotten very little sleep. Luckily a mixture of coffee and vampire blood—combined with a whole lot of nerves—seemed to be the perfect combination for keeping me awake and on my toes.

"There are other ways to break free from them," he said. I could hear the stiffness in his tone—and a little judgment too.

"We went over all this earlier," I said, trying to hold onto my patience.

"I know," he responded, "but we're talking about Northman here. Sookie, don't do this."

"I love him. And if this works, I'm _certain_ that I'll be happy, Alcide. Really happy. Maybe for the first time in my life."

He sighed deeply—the kind of sigh that signaled disappointed acceptance. "Okay then. But I'm doing all this for _you_ and not for him."

I smiled. "I know. And I love you for it."

"But not like you love him," he said, the regret clear in his voice.

Alcide and I had had a few starts and stops, but I knew that it could have never worked out with us. His brain still loved Debbie Pelt, and mine had never wanted him in the same way I wanted Eric.

"I'm sorry, but no," I confirmed.

Again, he sighed out his acceptance—his resignation. "I'll see you at around 5:00 then," he said.

"Thanks, Alcide. Really—thank you."

"It's nothing, cher."

"No," I said, "it's a lot. It's _everything_. You have my life in your hands right now. His too."

There was another sigh from his end.

"I know," he said. "See you soon."

I nodded, though he wouldn't be able to see it. "See you soon."

As I hung up the phone, I smiled a little. Eric and I had needed help, and he'd trusted my input when I'd suggested Alcide. Knowing that Alcide would need time to collect everything we needed, Eric had called him before our second exchange. After Alcide had initially told Eric to 'fuck off,' I'd talked to him and he'd begrudgingly agreed, despite his reservations over Eric and "the plan." I'd not been surprised in the least when he'd called after dawn to make sure I wasn't being compelled by Eric against my will. That conversation had taken an unpleasant thirty minutes, but Alcide had finally accepted that I wasn't going to change my mind.

"Hey, cher," Sam said from behind me, interrupting my thoughts.

I took a deep breath. It was time for more goodbyes.

* * *

**A/N: Hello all! Thanks for all the comments that are continuing to come to me about this story! The good news is that it's now all drafted, so that means that I'll try to post a chapter each day or two as I edit. As of now, we have about five chapters left until we get our "explosive" ending. ;)**

**Cheers (and fingers crossed about **_**TB**_** tonight),**

**Kat**


	10. Chapter 10: Remember and Smile

**Chapter 10:** **Remember and Smile**

"_Remember me and smile, for it's better to forget than to remember me and cry."―Dr. Seuss_

* * *

_Sookie POV_

_As I hung up the phone, I smiled a little. Eric and I had needed help, and he'd trusted my input when I'd suggested Alcide. Knowing that Alcide would need time to collect everything we needed, Eric had called him before our second exchange. After Alcide had initially told Eric to 'fuck off,' I'd talked to him and he'd begrudgingly agreed, despite his reservations over Eric and "the plan." I'd not been surprised in the least when he'd called after dawn to make sure I wasn't being compelled by Eric against my will. That conversation had taken an unpleasant thirty minutes, but Alcide had finally accepted that I wasn't going to change my mind. _

_ "Hey, cher," Sam said from behind me, interrupting my thoughts. _

_ I took a deep breath. It was time for more goodbyes. _

I turned on the bench and patted the seat next to me, putting back on my shoes as Sam sat down. I couldn't help but to think how nice Sam looked—and how happy. His mind was usually difficult for me to read, but—probably because of having both Warlow's and Eric's blood in quick succession, I could read his thoughts pretty easily. He had a good reason to be happy.

"Congratulations," I said as he sat.

He looked taken aback for a moment, but then grinned. "Will you keep it to yourself?" he asked. "Nicole doesn't even know she's pregnant yet."

"Of course," I responded. "Sorry. I wasn't fishing in your head. My shields are a mess right now because of the funeral. Plus, you're so happy and proud that your thoughts are just radiating off of you."

He grinned a little wider, but then frowned. "I feel bad about Luna," he said softly. "It's so soon after her own funeral would have been, and I," he sighed, "really did love her. I still do. This thing with Nicole came at me out of nowhere." He shook his head as if clearing it. "I don't know how, but I love them both. And now the baby too."

I smiled. "I have some experience with loving two people at the same time."

He looked at me inquisitively. I sighed. We had been too out of the loop with each other's lives.

"For a while there, I loved both Eric and Bill," I shared.

"Eric Northman?" he asked, startled.

"Yeah. It's a long story, but yeah."

He shook his head. "We need to talk more, Sook."

I nodded. "Yeah. Listen—I'm certainly no sage—but at first, I didn't know how to deal with loving two people at once, and I fucked things up _really_ badly."

"How?" Sam asked, sitting forward a little.

"I was scared, and stupidly I thought it would be better to let them both go," I replied. "But that was idiotic! I just managed to hurt us all more."

Sam looked contemplative.

I sighed. "If I could go back in time, I'd make a different choice."

"What would you do?"

"Well—for one—I would have stopped trying to live the life I _thought_ that I wanted and just live the one that I'd been given." I smiled. "And I would have been brave enough to actually make a choice, instead of trying to avoid it altogether. I would have really thought about the pros and cons of relationships with both Bill and Eric, and I would have picked the one that was _best_ for me." I scoffed at how I'd behaved in the past. "And—believe you me—it would have been an easy choice to make if I hadn't been too chicken-shit to make it."

"Who would you have chosen?" he asked.

"Eric," I said with certainty. "He can drive me crazy at times, and I know that he's done some things that would make me cringe or weep or both, but he also makes me feel something I've never felt before."

"And what's that?"

I chuckled. "Strangely enough—_normal_." I shook my head. "After I found out that Bill only approached me at first because he was working for the queen, I tried hard to construct a 'conventionally normal life' for myself," I said, using air quotes for effect. "But my stubbornness made me miss the fact that an 'unconventional normal' might be wonderful too. The second—and I mean the _very_ second—that I truly picked Eric, I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off of my shoulders." Not used to having so much to be happy about, I could feel the smile burning on my face as I continued speaking. "And even though a lot of things are fucked up and my whole life is in turmoil, I feel like I've moved into the eye of the storm, and I trust Eric to keep me there."

Sam exhaled slowly. "I feel like I've been in a storm too, and I think that Nicole could help me make it through."

"In that case, I'm really happy for you," I said sincerely. "And I know Luna would be too. You don't have to forget your love for her, you know. Trust me—truly loving someone only makes your capacity for love that much bigger."

He tilted his head a little in question. "You still love Bill?"

I nodded. "Yeah—in a manner of speaking, at least. I will always love the person I thought he was. After all, he was my first love. And not fighting my feelings for him has helped to clarify that I feel so much _more_ for Eric. So—Bill gets to have a little piece of my head."

"And your heart?" Sam asked.

"All Eric's," I smiled.

Sam considered my words for a moment. "Part of me still distrusts vampires, but no species is without warts. I'm real happy for you too, Sook." He chuckled. "This is gonna sound a little crazy, but a part of me always thought that—at the end of everything—it would be you and me together, getting ready to have kids."

I sighed. "I've thought about that too, but we'd both have been settling. You're my friend, and I'll always love you, but you feel like a brother to me, Sam. And we both deserve a chance at 'happily ever afters' that truly make us happy and not just," I paused, "satisfied."

"You're right." Sam smiled. "It's weird, but Nicole makes me feel like I could have that good ending. She's young, but she's also _so_ sure of herself. And she seems to 'get me.'"

"That's real good, Sam."

"Hey—listen. Thanks, cher," he said.

"For what?" I asked.

"For telling me about Bill and Eric. In a weird way, it helps. I think I just needed to give myself permission to love _both_ Luna and Nicole and not to let the timing bother me.

I nodded. "I think that's smart, Sam."

Just then, I noticed Lafayette, Arlene, Holly, and Andy coming outside. Arlene looked like she was so angry that she was getting ready to spit nails.

"I swear to God, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost that if Portia tries to make herself the center of attention by tellin' one more story about Terry, I'm gonna. . . ."

"Now just holds on there," Lafayette cooed, "all yous needs is a little somethin' to make Miss Portia more palatable. Yous just let Lala help you out."

I grinned as Lafayette pulled a joint out of his pocket—not because the drug was funny, but because of the expression on Andy's face.

"Lafayette!" Andy yelled. "You can't be smokin' that here! I'm an officer of the law!"

Lafayette chuckled. "I's plannin' to share it, sheriff."

Andy looked mortified.

"Come on, Andy," Holly said conciliatorily, "one little joint ain't gonna do any of us any harm. After all, herbs are the goddess's way of helping us get through our days." She had a lighter out of the pocket of her cardigan before Andy could say another word.

"Well I need somethin' after all that. Hell—the way Portia and Grandma Bellefleur are holdin' court in there has me two minutes away from blowin' fire," Arlene said, grabbing the now-lit joint from Lafayette and taking a big hit off of it.

I couldn't help the feeling of melancholy that rose inside of me as I watched Arlene, Lafayette, and Holly each giggle as they took hits off of the little marijuana cigarette before handing it to Sam, who then offered it up to Andy. Andy looked conflicted for about a second before taking a deep drag and then offering me the joint. Needing to keep a clear head, I declined.

"No thanks, those things do weird stuff to my head," I said truthfully.

The joint had done another round before anyone spoke again.

"That's good shit," Arlene coughed out.

Everyone laughed, and suddenly all the tension of the day seemed to leave us—at least for the moment. Everyone took a seat on one of the benches that formed a little semicircle. The little garden that we were in was obscured from view by Mrs. Bellefleur's prized climbing roses, so everyone—including Andy—relaxed as the joint made its final round.

"Not that I'm not grateful for gettin' out of there and all," Arlene said, "but why did you need to talk to us, Sook?"

I took a deep breath. "I need to tell you all goodbye."

I was met by a whole lot of questions and protests all at once—both from their minds and from their lips. I held up my hand to try to stop them for a moment. The only one who hadn't spoken immediately was Sam, but it didn't take him long to take the lead.

He took my hand and squeezed it.

"You're leaving with _him_—aren't you?" he asked.

"Leavin' with whom?" Lafayette asked.

I sighed. "Eric. Yes."

"That vamp?" Arlene asked. "The big, blond one?"

I nodded.

"Girl, you got a death wish?" Lafayette piped in.

"Maybe," I chuckled. "But I'd prefer to think of it as a _life_ wish."

Everyone was silent for a moment.

It was Sam who spoke. "What do you need for us to do?"

I looked at Arlene guiltily.

"What is it?" she asked.

I inhaled. "I need for you all to pretend that I'm dead."

Again there was silence for a moment.

"Why?" Arlene asked.

"Bill and this vampire-fairy hybrid named Warlow or—uh—Ben have had my blood. Tonight or—uh—early in the morning, I'm gonna disappear from their radar—so to speak. I need to stay off of it, and that's where y'all come in."

"But there's no way to break a blood tie—not even by witchcraft," Holly said.

"There's one way," I returned.

"No!" Sam said in warning.

"It's what I want," I told him.

"What are y'all talkin' about?" Arlene asked, looking from Sam to me.

"It's better that you don't know the specifics," I said, giving Sam a pointed look.

He nodded. "Yeah, it's better that way," he agreed. "But are you sure? That kinda thing can't be undone."

"I know," I said.

He sighed, but didn't make any more arguments.

I looked around at the gathered group. "I'm telling y'all that I'm leaving because I love you, and I want you to know the truth. And I _don't_ want y'all to mourn for me. There's been too much of that already. I want y'all to know that I'm gonna be happy." I didn't mention the 'if I survive' part.

Arlene moved toward me and gave me a big hug. "And you're happy with your vamp, Sook?" she asked.

"Yeah. And I think it'll only get better once it's just him and me," I answered.

Arlene looked at me with penetrating and understanding eyes. It was almost disconcerting—but certainly heart-warming—to hear her thoughts, telling me that I should seize what time I could with the man I loved while I could do it.

"Thank you," I whispered in answer to her unspoken words.

Lafayette sighed. "I'm gonna miss the fuck out of you, baby girl."

"I'll miss you too," I returned, "but I should be able to call y'all once some time passes."

"Won't Bill—or this Warlow character—try to glamour us for information about you?" Sam asked astutely.

I nodded. "That's what Eric would do. And that's why Eric's sending someone loyal to him to glamour y'all tonight—at first dark." I looked at Holly. "Arlene mentioned your vampire friend, and he owes Eric a favor for saving his life from drainers. He's gonna glamour y'all so that you won't be able to say anything about this conversation or about the fact that I'm still alive. In fact, if you're glamoured and asked about me by another vampire, then you'll get upset and talk about me as if I'm dead, but after you're released from the glamour, you'll know the truth."

"Um," Andy said rather awkwardly, "begging your pardon, Sookie, but why am I here? You and I aren't particularly," he paused, "all that friendly."

I smiled at him. "I know, but I needed to talk to you. In a way—my whole plan hinges on you."

Andy looked confused. "How?"

I sighed. "I gave my word to Bill that I would try to make sure no one in town harmed Jessica for what she did to your girls." I looked down. "I can't even imagine what it was like for you to lose them. And it doesn't matter that they grew up so fast. The truth is that you loved them as if you'd been their father forever."

Andy gasped. "How do you know that?"

I tapped my head. "Your thoughts are very clear. And the love you felt for them is very beautiful," I observed. "I wouldn't blame you for wanting justice."

"I need to keep the other one alive even more," Andy said gruffly. Holly's hand linked with his.

I nodded. "Listen, Andy, I know this doesn't excuse Jessica, but fairy blood is like crack to a vampire. I truly believe that Bill would agree to make sure your remaining daughter is protected from all other vampires in the area if you don't seek a punishment for Jessica." I sighed again. "I don't know what I'd do in your shoes, but I promised Bill that I would try to help to protect Jessica. If you tell me that you won't go after her for what she's done, I'll be free to leave."

"And if not?" Andy asked.

"Then I'll have to stay and tell Bill if your thoughts turn hostile against Jessica," I sighed. "It was the deal I had to make with Bill in order to gain my freedom from Warlow, and I won't go back on my word."

"What did Northman have to say about that?" Sam asked.

I smirked at him. "He wasn't happy, but he respected that I needed to keep my word so that I could leave with a clear conscience."

Sam nodded, seeming to respect Eric's response. Frankly, I'd been a little surprised by his acceptance myself—though I shouldn't have been. Eric had a contingency plan if Andy didn't agree to let matters go. It would mean sticking around a while longer—which wouldn't be ideal—but, according to Eric, it _might_ be doable.

Luckily, I didn't think we'd need that particular Plan B.

Andy seemed to be contemplating all his options, and I wasn't about to rush him, considering all he'd been through. He closed his eyes tightly. "I'd always liked Jessica," he said in his gruff manner, "before all this. She was pleasant enough for a vamp."

"She still is," I said. "She just couldn't stop herself from biting when she smelled their blood. It would be like what you would feel if you found water in the desert after a few days without any. You'd think about nothing but it and do _anything_ to get it. But I understand if you feel the need to seek justice for the deaths of your girls. I agreed to try to advocate for Jessica's life and freedom, and I have. And I agreed to tell Bill what you're thinking about doin' as long as he doesn't hurt anyone, and I will. But that doesn't make what Jessica did okay. _Nothing_ could do that!"

Andy sighed. "Why doesn't Vampire Bill just glamour us all—me especially, since I'm the law and all—not to do anything?"

I sighed. "He's actually got an honorable reason for that," I said, giving credit where credit was due. "He seems to think that he'd need to take some of your memories of your daughters away in order to effectively glamour you. And he doesn't want to do that."

While Andy further contemplated his choices, I unapologetically stayed inside of his head to listen to his thought process. At heart, Andy was a peaceful man who didn't like conflict. He'd become a policeman because he believed in the words "to serve and to protect"; however, he saw himself as a "peacekeeper" more than anything else. He also wanted to safeguard his remaining daughter, Adilyn—even if it meant sacrificing his own life. In his heart, he truly believed that Jessica hadn't been able to help herself when she drained his other girls—even though a part of him still wanted to stake her. As a cop, he knew that he should seek justice, but he just wasn't sure what would be most "right" in this situation. Plus, in the end, he blamed Bill a lot more than he blamed Jessica; however, he was scared to death of Bill right now. He also felt guilty—afraid that his girls had died because he was a bad father, just like his own had been.

He made up his mind with a heavy sigh—almost a groan.

"Uh—do you think that Vampire Bill would really—uh—protect Adilyn?" Andy asked.

"He's still the vampire king of the state—at least officially. And others—vampires too—are just as scared of him as you are." I sighed. "I don't think he'd harm Adilyn, and I think that he is truly sorry for what happened to your other girls. Plus, he could command Jessica—once she gets back—not to come within a certain distance of Adilyn."

Why Bill hadn't controlled Jessica with a maker's command before was beyond me, but I didn't mention my opinions about Bill's coldness/thoughtlessness to Andy.

I continued, "Bill also has influence with other vampires in the area. But you should probably keep Adilyn inside at night—at least until she learns to protect herself with that fairy light I told you about. She's just half-blooded, but she'll still smell really tempting to vampires unless," I paused and looked at Holly.

"Unless?" Andy asked.

"I think my great-grandfather knows a way to mask his scent. He's a fairy, but he's not around right now. If he can be found, I think that he'd help Adilyn if he could. He could at least help her figure out how to turn on her light. I'm sorry I couldn't." I shook my head sadly. I'd tried that morning before the funeral to help Andy's remaining daughter produce light, but it hadn't worked; maybe she was just too young. Or maybe she had to be truly afraid in order to use it for the first time.

Andy exhaled loudly. "Thanks. And—uh—you can tell Vampire Bill that I ain't gonna do anything to Jessica. Just tell him to keep her away from Adilyn! I don't want no more dyin'," he finished.

I could see the tears glistening in his eyes and the defeated slump of his shoulders. I exited his head, knowing that his thoughts matched his words. I wished that there was something I could do. The situation was horrible. From what I could figure, Jessica had been trying to make sure the fairy girls weren't harmed as Bill's doctor experimented with their blood. But Jessica had lost control and now felt tremendous guilt because of that. I felt guilt too; if I had agreed to be Bill's guinea pig in the first place, the girls would all still be alive.

I reached out and squeezed Andy's hand. "For what it's worth, Bill no longer needs Adilyn's blood for what he's doin'; he's got another donor."

Andy nodded. It was only a small consolation to him, but at least it was something to help his peace of mind.

I took a deep breath and then rose. "I need to go. I'll call you all when it's safe for me to do so."

Sam stood too, followed by the others. "Cher, you could stay. We'd all protect you."

They all immediately agreed in concert.

I shook my head. "I don't want any of y'all hurt because of me. And I don't think Warlow will stop pursuing me." I sighed. "He wants to turn me into what he is, and I don't want to be turned—at least not by him."

"You gonna let Eric turn you?" Arlene asked with surprise.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I've given him permission to do it if I'm dying and there's no other way, but I really want to try liking who I am for a change—rather than becomin' something else right now."

Holly moved so that she was right in front of me and gave me a big hug. "You take care, okay? And I'll be workin' on getting' your great-grandfather back."

"Thanks," I said with a smile.

Andy surprised me by stepping in for my next hug. "I ain't always been nice to you—um—about that thing you can do with your head. But you're good people, Sookie Stackhouse. Lots of folks wouldn't have taken care of their grandma like you did. And lots of folks wouldn't have been as nice to Terry as you were. This town'll miss you."

I stepped back from the hug and looked at him skeptically.

"Well—at least some people in this town," he modified.

I laughed a little.

Arlene was the next to hug me, and we embraced tightly. She didn't say anything aloud because she feared crying again if she did, and she _really_ needed a break from crying. I couldn't blame her. I could "hear" that she was tired of losing people and didn't want me to go, but that she hoped I would be happy.

"Come here, baby girl," Lafayette said as Arlene released me. I stepped toward him, and he held me so tightly that I thought I might break. He got a few of my tears on his shirt for his trouble, but he didn't seem to care. "You's be careful—okay?"

"I'll try," I promised. I'd decided not to tell them of the danger faced by Tara and probably Jason. If Eric's plan worked, they'd be okay, and if it didn't—well—no one would have to pretend to grieve for them.

Sam was the last to take his hug.

"How dangerous is this plan of Eric's—your plan to get away?" he asked in a whisper.

I managed to control my tears a little and speak. "For me—it's not too bad."

"Good," he said at a barely audible level, "'cause we love you, Sookie Stackhouse."

My tears falling in earnest now, I broke the hug and looked at each friend circled around me. Leaving was difficult, and a few months before, I wouldn't have even entertained the notion, but a lot had changed.

I had come to realize two very important things. The first was that there was no going back to my life as it had been before vampires came into it. And the second was that I no longer wanted to go back; that was going _backwards_. Moreover, if Eric and I could get a little luck tonight, then I would soon have more love in my life than I'd ever had in the past. I'd have Eric, and though a part of me didn't think I deserved him, the only thing that really mattered was that he did.

I was done taking that fact—and him—for granted.

I was moving forward—come what may.

* * *

**A/N: I know that many of you checked out my short one-shot, "Snjóflóð" (translated "Avalanche"), and I really appreciate that. It was a cathartic write. **

**Meanwhile, let's get back to this story, which I prefer to the events of the end of S6—if I do say so myself. ;)**

**I hope that you liked this chapter, and I really want to thank you for your continued responses and support for this story. I'll do my best to end this one better than **_**TB**_**, though a nude scene on a Swedish mountain doesn't seem like such a bad idea—if it's in the right hands. I'll take "it" in hand for us all. ;) **

**Next up, we are going back into Eric's head, and you know I love to be there. ;) **

**Cheers, **

**Kat**


	11. Chapter 11: Ripe for Execution

**Chapter 11: Ripe for Execution**

"_No enterprise is more likely to succeed than one concealed from the enemy until it is ripe for execution."—Niccolo Machiavelli_

* * *

_Eric POV_

Probably because I'd had some of Sookie's blood the night before, I woke up twenty minutes before nightfall, despite all the forced-waking I'd experienced, first at the Vamp Camp and then as I'd watched Nora waste away.

Immediately upon waking "naturally" for the first time in several days, I stretched my limbs out of habit and reached out to locate Sookie through our twice-set bond. My body thirsted for one more exchange; my blood craved the sealing of the bond forever. However, two exchanges certainly had perks compared to only one. Even though I could tell that she was quite far away—likely already working with the Were to complete her part of the plan—I could feel her emotions more strongly than I'd been able to the night before when she'd been standing right next to me.

She was nervous, though confident. I could almost picture the set of her jaw, the determination in her eyes. Right under her surface emotions, I felt her love for me—her trust in me.

Sensing her so strongly—knowing that we were even more connected now—was comforting, especially since the place on the bed where she'd fallen asleep next to me was cold.

I sighed. I couldn't wait for a time when I would rise with her beside me—warming me.

I looked to the side of the bed, and on the little table lay two notes, one of which I was expecting. I read the one on top out loud:

_I had a good morning overall. Terry's funeral was difficult, but nice. Saying goodbye was both harder and easier than I'd thought it would be. _

_Everything's going okay so far._

_I kissed you for luck, so there's lipstick on you—in a few places. I also made sure to rub myself all over you before I left. It was fun, though I __much__ prefer it when you rub back. _

_Be careful. _

_I love you._

—_S _

I chuckled and looked down at my body. There were a couple of lip prints over my dead heart and one on my lower belly, as close to my dick as one could get without touching it. "Tease," I laughed.

Though Sookie's absence and distance from me had been indication enough that things were going as planned, it was nice to read that in her own words. I looked at the second note in order to confirm its content before hiding the first in the safe that I'd had installed in the corner of the cubby. The safe looked like just another tile on the floor, even to my sharp eyes, and only my hand-print would trigger the opening mechanism. Months before, I had placed a few old books and letters from Godric inside of it. I added Sookie's letter and closed the safe, wondering briefly if I'd ever be back to open it again.

My clothing from the night before had been washed and was neatly folded on the chair in the little light-tight space. I shook my head, marveling at the fact that Sookie had bothered to do such a chore for me, considering the other things I knew that she'd had to get through that day. I found myself smiling at her sign of care.

Though we'd showered together after we'd had our second blood exchange and "returned" from what Sookie had termed our "bonding trip," I was pleased to find that I still smelled strongly of her, probably because of the "rubbing" she'd done. My fangs and dick ached at the thought of her body moving against mine. She was right; it would have been _much_ better if I had been "alive" and could have rubbed back.

The fact that I smelled strongly of Sookie was a good thing. Both Bill and Warlow would have "felt" her intense pleasure the night before. And I wanted them to know _exactly_ who'd given her that pleasure. On the other hand, I was confident that they still wouldn't sense our bond. If my theory was correct, they would be able to tell only that I'd taken her blood. In fact, I'd fed a little from Sookie after our second bonding just to ensure that. However, given the fact that Bill's and Warlow's blood inside of Sookie avoided her light like the plague, they would still have no idea about our bond, which Sookie's light continued to conceal.

Moreover, during our second bonding, a small amount of Sookie's light had decided to take up residence in me and was currently acting as sentinel around our bond in my body. That occurrence had led to a slight modification and enhancement of our plan.

"You're a lucky bastard, Northman," I whispered, as I let myself sink into the warmth of Sookie's light inside of me for a moment. I just hoped that my luck—our luck—would hold.

I quickly dressed and focused upon the tasks I needed to accomplish that night. In my mind, I lay them out like a list and thought of potential variables and obstacles for each item. That done, I moved a few of the steps around for efficiency.

As soon as the sun set, I left the cubby.

I flew straight to Nora's grave, and—true to her word—Sookie had placed flowers onto it: sweet alyssum and rosemary. I closed my eyes, intuiting that my bonded had chosen the rosemary because it symbolized "remembrance." I recalled that sweet alyssum represented "worth beyond beauty." The combination of flowers was perfect for my sister.

I inhaled deeply and touched the headstone. "Hålla henne säker för mig, Gran," I whispered before proceeding to Bill's home. ["_Keep her safe for me, Gran_."]

I refocused on the plan as I approached.

Step one was for me to drink as much of Warlow's blood as possible. I had several reasons for wanting to do this. The first one required no stretch of the imagination; simply put, I wanted him weak.

Next, I wanted information that only Warlow's blood could supply. I already knew that he couldn't feel Sookie's emotions as well as I could, but I needed to get a better idea of what he _could_ sense from her. And, more importantly, I needed to know _how_ his fairy blood functioned in a body. I would be able to sense what it did in my own body in ways that Sookie wasn't able to do. I didn't think that Fae blood could be used to track, but that supposition needed to be verified if Sookie and my plan was going to work. And truly "knowing" Warlow's blood meant that I needed to take it straight from the source rather than from a vial.

I emerged from the woods and saw Billith standing at his front door, obviously waiting for me. His expression was sour; in fact, he looked downright constipated. And he had clearly picked up Sookie's scent on me. I smirked. Sookie and I had been "loud" the night before, literally and figuratively. And now I was going to test both Warlow's ability to hone in on her feelings as well as how interested Bill still was in her.

Two birds. One stone.

I approached him and began my _performance_.

"Good evening, your majesty, or is it your god-ship?" I greeted dryly.

He ignored my sarcasm. "You are here," he said, almost like it was a question.

"I said I would be," I responded, refraining from the impulse to call him Captain Obvious.

"You have lipstick on your cheek," he observed as we began walking toward the basement. "I recognize the color. _ I_ bought it for her," he finished rather smugly as he stopped at the entrance that would lead us downstairs.

I smirked. Apparently my little minx was sending a nice 'fuck you' to her ex using me. I certainly didn't mind. Her leaving 'evidence' on me had been part of the plan.

"Perhaps she is sending a subtle _love_ message to you," I observed with a deepening smirk.

"Considering the fact that she recently tried to stake me for you, I'd say not," Bill replied sarcastically.

"Then a 'fuck you message.' I feel so used," I deadpanned.

"Yes—likely a 'fuck you message,'" Bill chuckled. "But she has already honored her agreement with me nonetheless."

"Agreement?" I asked, playing dumb.

"Yes—Sookie has confirmed that the sheriff of Bon Temps will not attempt any reprisals against Jessica for what she did to his fairy daughters."

I nodded. I had already assumed that things had gone well with Andy Bellefleur, given the fact that no mention of problems had been made in Sookie's note to me.

"Well now you can keep both of your _babies_ close to home. One big, happy family," I said sarcastically, hoping to poke the bear a little.

It worked. The bear poked back.

"I see that you have forgiven Sookie for _fucking_ Warlow and for taking his blood," Bill said with a smirk of his own, obviously trying to twist the proverbial knife into my back.

I didn't take the bait.

"Forgiveness was not on my list for Santa Claus this year," I said indifferently. "I will likely be truly dead soon. And Sookie's warm body was a," I paused, "nice sendoff."

"I no longer feel her in Bon Temps—or even that close by," Bill said suspiciously. "In fact, she seems to be near where _you_ told me the Vamp Camp was located."

I shrugged. "You know how foolish Sookie can be. When I awoke, I found this." I handed Bill the second note Sookie had written—the prop.

He read aloud:

_Eric, please don't be mad. I knew you wouldn't take me with you, but I wanted to help. And I think that Jason might be in that camp. Alcide agreed to come. Call when you wake up._

—_Sookie_

"Did you call her?" Bill snarled. "She'd better not fuck up my plan!"

_Interesting_—I thought to myself. Bill was certainly more concerned about his plan to supposedly "save" vampire-kind from humanity than he was about Sookie. His petty comments aside, he didn't seem to care about her much at all anymore.

All the better for Sookie and me.

"I did not call her," I reported evenly. "I contacted the Were. Sookie won't be able to do anything stupid," I reported evenly. "I ordered Herveaux to keep her from going anywhere near the camp."

"How do you know he'll follow your orders?" Bill asked skeptically.

"His father ran up yet another gambling debt last year; I bought the marker when he couldn't pay. Plus, the Were hates my fucking guts and is infatuated with Sookie; therefore, it was easy to convince him that she'd be in too much danger if she went inside the camp. I even promised him that I'd 'sacrifice my own life to help Jason if needed.'" I said sarcastically. "Herveaux has _secured_ her in a nearby building for the night and will bring her back to Bon Temps tomorrow morning."

Bill studied me through narrowed eyes. "_How_ has she been secured?"

I laughed. "According to Alcide, she has been tied up and gagged and is . . . ." I paused. "Now—how did he put it? Oh yeah!" I chuckled a little louder. "Fit to be tied."

"How did you get the Were to do that?" Bill asked skeptically.

"I told him that I could _collect_ on his father's debt at any time," I said ominously. "_And_ I reminded him how easily Sookie forgives and forgets. After all, did she not forgive you for having her beaten up in order to get your blood into her?" I asked pointedly. "Next to that, a night 'all tied up' seems like a misdemeanor—would you not say?"

Bill gave me a glare. "She will not forgive him if her brother dies," Bill pointed out.

I shrugged. "It is good—then—that the Were hasn't thought of that and," I paused for effect, "that he has gagged her."

Bill nodded, accepting my story. "Good. I'd prefer that Sookie not be injured, but we must _not_ sacrifice the plan for a single life."

I nodded again. "Agreed—especially since the lives of my progenies hang in balance. And Sookie is quite _safe_," I added sarcastically. "I see no way that she could hinder the plan."

I didn't bother to tell Bill that _the_ plan had changed and that Sookie was now an integral part of it. He'd find out about the first change soon enough.

I had to admit that I didn't quite _get_ Billith's logic for wanting to wait to attack the Vamp Camp. I'd told him where the camp was, so for all practical purposes, he could have gone there that day to save everyone. Hell—that's what I would have done! He could have given me Warlow's blood and commanded Warlow to help too! A vampire demigod, plus a fairy-vampire hybrid, plus a day-walking _me_ equals a badass group. But Bill was so tied to letting his vision "play out"—at least up to the point where we all started to burn. He seemed to think that it _had_ to play out that way. I, on the other hand, wasn't wed to the scenario from his premonition—especially since it starred me as one of the "burn victims."

Bill's plan called for me to go to the Vamp Camp that night. He even agreed to "_let me_ have a little fun" before "letting myself" get caught. I would keep the vials of Warlow's blood "in me" until I had a chance to distribute them, which Bill figured would be when I was in the round room with the others. I was to prioritize giving the blood to the vampires we knew and _wanted_ to save.

How I would "drop trou" and retrieve the vials without arousing suspicion—or at least libidos—was obviously not something he'd considered.

Imbecile.

According to his premonition, I would be saving the others during the day, though Bill didn't know which day.

Nothing like a vague fucking vision!

All Bill could say was that he "sensed" that his premonition would come to pass soon.

In all actuality, I didn't give a flying fuck about Bill's vision, except that it was going to put me in the position to secure the "ammunition" I needed for my own plan. In fact, I was going to prevent Bill's premonition from coming to pass by making sure I destroyed the Vamp Camp and the TruBlood factory at sunrise—_after_ everyone was out and/or dead, depending on species.

As Bill and I entered the basement and progressed to Warlow's holding area, the hybrid growled. I guess he saw the lipstick. Or maybe he sensed more of Sookie's blood in me. Or maybe he smelled her on me. Or maybe he'd felt her emotions as we were having our "fun" the night before. Or maybe he was just a dick.

Was there a box for checking 'all of the above?'

* * *

**A/N: As always, I wanted to start by thanking all of you who reviewed the last chapter! I continue to be floored by the response to this story!**

**Originally, this chapter was supposed to include more, but it got too long, so I broke it up here b/c, otherwise, I might not have gotten you anything until Friday (my tomorrow is slammed!).**

**So—the game is afoot. Rubs hands together. What else does Eric have up his sleeves? Or—ahem—in his pants?**

**Again—though I'm not responding to all reviews/comments, I want you to know that I appreciate them.**

**Cheers!**

**Kat**


	12. Chapter 12: Directing Fate

**Chapter 12: Directing Fate**

_Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent's fate.—Sun Tzu_

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**Eric POV**

_As Bill and I entered the basement and progressed to Warlow's holding area, the hybrid growled. I guess he saw the lipstick. Or maybe he sensed more of Sookie's blood in me. Or maybe he smelled her on me. Or maybe he'd felt her emotions as we were having our "fun" the night before. Or maybe he was just a dick._

_Was there a box for checking 'all of the above?'_

I spared the growler only a glance; otherwise, it might have been too difficult not to laugh at the way his face was contorted. I smirked, wondering if I too would perfect the "snarl-pout" if I lived another 4,500 years. If I did, I would be able to annoy Pam endlessly.

Professor Takahashi came forward as soon as he saw me. He was holding up five vials of blood as if in triumph. "Mr. Northman, I have come up with a way to preserve the Fae qualities inside of the blood indefinitely—as long as these vials remain sealed," he said in a proud and excited tone. I'd shown interest in his work the night before, and he was obviously happy to share his breakthrough with someone who wasn't an insufferable prat or a maniacal douche.

"And how did you manage that?" I asked with curiosity. Before I'd gone to Sookie's home the night before, Takahashi had been struggling to maintain the integrity of the Fae blood. It seemed that as soon as it left Warlow's body, it—like vampire blood—began to degrade and lose its magical qualities.

With vampire blood, most of the magical characteristics were lost within moments once it was outside of a host. The 'residue' of the magic—so to speak—was what made humans inebriated from it. However, no ties or bonds could be formed once the blood had spent even a few seconds outside of a body, and even its healing properties diminished, though they were not lost completely.

Ironically, blood that was drunk directly from a vampire caused hardly any "drunkenness" in humans. It—of course—had healing properties and increased the strength and senses of the human taking it, but that was about all it did for the human, other than to provide a little euphoria. For Weres taking vampire blood, the same was true—unless they took the blood while they were shifted or right before or after they shifted. In those cases, the mixture of the "magics" would cause bloodlust in Weres.

Vampires, by nature, were selfish and suspicious creatures. Thus, most vampires hardly ever shared their blood with other creatures, but if they did, the only way it could survive in another being was if it linked itself to the blood of that being. In that way, vampire blood was truly parasitic. And that was how ties were formed. A vampire's ability to influence his or her blood in a human host was determined by his or her aptitude in manipulating the hormonal levels within the human blood. With age came almost automatic aptitude. However, having a larger amount of blood in a human would allow a younger vampire—like Bill—more "practice" and more room for error in his manipulation.

Ties were stronger when a vampire had also taken the human's blood. However, that strengthening was not a matter of magic. It was a matter of "education." Simply put, once a vampire had another being's blood inside of him, he could "ask" his blood to study the blood of the "other." And the results of that study could be extremely helpful in a vampire's understanding of how his blood could influence that "other." If the vampire hadn't had the "other's" blood—as I'd not had Sookie's when I'd first given her mine in Dallas—then he could try manipulate the "other's" blood by instinct, but that wasn't as effective.

Because of Godric's influence, I had always made a point of "studying" any blood that I took, despite the fact that I'd given very few other beings my own blood. Granted, I'd done some "experimenting" by forming ties with Lafayette and Hadley, but I'd held onto those ties only for a little while before eliminating them from my body—which was always a vampire's prerogative when it came to ties. A vampire could—for all intents and purposes—"squeeze" the blood of a human or a Were until it was destroyed.

Lafayette's emotions had been easy to manipulate when I'd created a tie with him, and that had made him the perfect tool when I'd been forced to sell Sophie-Anne's V. I'd manipulated Hadley's fear only long enough to influence her to run away from Mississippi and to warn Sookie that Russell would be coming for her. After that, I'd had no further need for their blood in me and no desire to feel their emotions or to monitor their locations, so I'd simply eradicated those ties.

Sookie's blood had been another story altogether. Even when she'd been in the fairy world for a year of my existence, I'd clung to her blood like it was a lifeline.

From Professor Takahashi's notes, which I'd taken the liberty of speed-reading before my conversation with Bill the night before, I'd learned that Fae blood had some similar qualities to vampire blood. It too lost its magic outside of a host, except in its case, not even a magical "residue" was left behind. Fairy-human hybrid blood maintained its magic outside of a body for only a couple of seconds.

As these thoughts about blood zipped through my head and were considered alongside the applicable elements of "the plan," Takahashi was looking at Bill, presumably waiting for permission to further explain his ingenuity to me. In fact, he looked to be chomping at the bit.

"Feel free to elucidate," Bill told the professor indulgently.

Takahashi looked back at me, the excitement clear in his eyes. "Well—Warlow's blood is different from _anything_ I'd ever seen before. It is both Fae and vampire, but the blood isn't fused together. The cells of Fae blood coexist with the vampire blood, but have maintained their independence, and that is why he has always been able to walk in the sun. Under the microscope, the two kinds of blood migrate to opposite ends of the same slide!"

"Fascinating," I said, doing my best Spock impression. "In that case, I wonder how Lilith was able to turn a fairy in the first place," I observed. "After all, the little bit of human blood left in us at death must bond with our maker's blood in order for our turning to be successful. I glanced in Warlow's direction. He was still pouting _and_ snarling.

A rabid dog begging for a bone.

Bill shrugged. "I do not know. As far as I have found, no other vampire has ever successfully turned a fairy."

I smirked at Warlow, "But I bet you've tried—haven't you?"

Warlow immediately looked guilty.

"It is my guess that something in Lilith—probably her divine nature—enabled her to turn Warlow," Bill posited.

Takahashi continued, "But once Warlow's blood is drawn, the vampire component of it acts like any other vampire's blood would."

"Thus, anything that was _divine_ within his maker was obviously not transferred to him," Bill finished with a sneer.

"When I figured that out," Takahashi reported, "I concentrated my studies on just the Fae portion of Warlow's blood. In any given sample I looked at, the Fae blood closest to the vampire blood begins to degrade almost immediately once it's out of Warlow's body. The farther away the Fae blood starts from the vampire blood, the longer it takes for its magical properties to erode."

"So—theoretically—if the Fae blood were isolated immediately, its magical characteristics would remain viable for a longer period of time," I said.

"That was my first thought!" he relayed, looking impressed that I was keeping up and even participating. "At first, I tried just removing the vampire blood from the sample, but the Fae blood became somewhat erratic and the magic quickly," he paused, "wore itself out."

"A defense mechanism," I guessed. "It was looking for a body to inhabit—likely the _light_ of a fairy host or," I paused, "the _warmth_ of a human one."

"Yes!" he proclaimed. "So I removed the vampire blood from one of Warlow's samples, and I mixed it with a sample of human blood—my own!"

"And the result?" I asked.

"The two remain separate, but a kind of stasis is achieved between them," he said proudly. "As long as the mixture is kept sealed in an airtight container, the magic in the fairy blood won't degrade because there is no innate magic in the human blood."

"Thus, it feels no need to defend itself, so it doesn't," I paused, "wear itself out."

"Precisely! The human blood seems to pacify the fairy blood's need to 'search' and expend its energy."

"Ingenious, Professor," I said, duly impressed by the man's work.

He smiled humbly at the compliment. "Well, it wasn't too much of a stretch. I already knew that Fae blood and human blood were compatible."

"Because fairies and humans can breed and have children," I said.

He nodded. "Once the human and Fae blood is melded genetically, it loses potency, but not compatibility." Takahashi added, "That is why your drinking experiences were different when you took Miss Stackhouse's blood and walked into the sun versus when you drank the full Fae's blood."

"Interesting," I commented. I'd told Takahashi of both those experiences the evening before as I'd been looking through his notes. I was glad that the information I'd given seemed to have helped him a little.

"Yes, it is!" Takahashi rolled on enthusiastically. "Miss Stackhouse's blood allowed you to be in the sun with only relative safety and, even then, only for a few minutes because it is essentially a watered-down version of Fae blood—different from either Fae or human, but having certain properties of both. Drinking from a true fairy allowed you _full_ protection from the sun—until the Fae blood wore itself out."

I nodded. "Yes. Another defense mechanism inherent in Fae blood—no doubt. Once Claudine's blood was inside of me, I remember that my own blood pursued it, but it couldn't form a connection with it," I said, recalling the way Claudine's blood had felt inside of me. Her blood had literally 'fled' from mine. And mine had given chase. I posited that that frenzied phenomenon of the blood was what caused a vampire to feel drunk after drinking from a fairy. My blood had been mostly beyond my control until the Fae blood dissipated inside of me.

The implications of the professor's work were quite interesting. It seemed that pure Fae blood couldn't be bound or tied to the blood of a vampire, which explained why Warlow hadn't been able to take a full-blooded Fae as his mate. His only hope was to try to bind himself with someone who was a fairy-human hybrid—someone like Sookie. Because of her unique blood, she was compatible with _both_ vampires and fairies—and, presumably, vampire-fairy hybrids.

However, the Fae notes in Sookie's blood had obviously made her somewhat resistant to ties with vampires. I wondered again, why—or _how_—she'd bound herself to me, but then I remembered that night in the cubby. I'd offered her the choice. I'd told her that we would be one. And _then_ she'd drunk from me. She'd _chosen_ me. Perhaps, that was the difference; perhaps her blood could _choose_ whether to flee from a vampire's.

I took the vials from Takahashi. "I'm guessing that the older the Fae blood, the longer it will protect a vampire from the sun."

"That is my working theory too," Takahashi said.

"Any idea how long Warlow's blood will protect vampires from the sun?" I asked, looking from Takahashi to Bill.

Bill responded, sounding a little pissed off, "I was drawn to avoid the sun at first light this morning."

That made sense to me. Claudine's blood had protected me for more than two hours. I had no idea of her age, but clearly Warlow was much older than she had been. So it seemed that his blood lasted for two days—give or take. That would be plenty of time.

Seeing that Bill still looked annoyed and having gotten all the information I could from Takahashi, I decided to get back on track with "the plan"—by having a little fun at Bill's expense.

"Yet you were already waiting for me outside of your door—looking fresh as a daisy—even though I arrived just minutes after sunset," I observed. "Let me guess," I smirked, "Warlow _offered_ you more of his blood."

Bill nodded stiffly.

I chuckled and looked down at the five vials of Takahashi's brew in my hand. "There were more vampires than five in your vision—were there not?" I asked Bill.

"You can share with the others if there is time, but prioritize Jessica, Tara, Pam, your other progeny and yourself," Bill said gruffly.

I nodded, trying not to show my disdain for the 'supposed' vampire savior. "I _do_ have a few conditions for seeing this through," I said.

Bill's fangs dropped immediately. "There will be _no_ conditions!" he yelled.

I rolled my eyes. "You aren't going to kill me, Bill—at least not until I've outlived my usefulness to you. We both know that. You need me to go back in there," I said evenly. "And I believe my conditions are reasonable."

"What are they?" Bill barked, his gaudy fangs still out.

"I want you to order Warlow to never turn Sookie," I said.

"No!" Warlow yelled.

"What if that is what _she_ wants?" Bill challenged me.

"It's not," I said evenly.

"How can you be so sure?" Bill asked.

"Because _she_ is the one who asked me to make this a condition of my going back to the Vamp Camp."

"You lie!" Warlow seethed, testing his bars.

Bill and I both ignored him.

"She will likely change her mind. _Again_," Bill smirked.

"Fine," I said indifferently. "Then command him not to turn her _unless_ she asks him to."

Bill's smirk grew. "What else do you want?"

"I want you to promise me that you won't harm any member of my line."

"I didn't plan to harm them," Bill said, his fangs disappearing, "so I have no problem agreeing to that _unless_ you or they come after me."

I nodded. "I will command my progenies not to initiate a conflict with you, and I will ask Pam to do the same of Tara."

Bill nodded. "Is that all?"

"Plan B," I said.

"Plan B?" Bill asked.

"Yes. I never face danger without one."

"What do you want, Eric?" Bill questioned, his patience obviously growing thin.

"I want to drink some of Warlow's blood now; in fact, I'd like _a lot _of it," I said with a smirk.

"Why?" Bill asked. "You have your vial; that will keep you safe from the sun."

"And what if the humans decide to get cute and do a full-cavity search?" I asked. "They also conduct sexual experiments. What if I am punished for my 'misbehavior' by being forced to participate in one? If those vials are found, I can do nothing to stop your premonition from coming true."

Bill looked nonplussed. "Taking Warlow's blood now would help only you. So if the other vials are found by the humans, then _only_ you would be protected." He narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe I will agree to that condition. I want you to be _sufficiently_ motivated to get those vials to the others."

"I assure you that my _progenies'_ lives are sufficient motivation," I said through clenched teeth. "_That_ is why I want to take Warlow's blood."

The fairy-vampire in the cage growled in protest, but Bill and I continued to ignore him and glare at each other.

"How can taking Warlow's blood now help the others?"

I rolled my eyes. "It won't unless I take a lot of it," I informed. "_I_ am the Plan B for the others. If the vials are taken from me, then the others can feed from me!" I refrained from calling Bill an idiot. Why he didn't just drag Warlow into the Vamp Camp to feed _everyone_ was beyond me. And if Warlow got drained in the process? Bonus.

"Surely that won't work," Bill said, looking at Professor Takahashi.

The scientist thought for a moment. "Actually, it likely would work, given the nature of the Fae blood and the fact that it remains intact and separate from vampire blood. If there were enough of it in Mr. Northman, the others would be able to have access to it by feeding from him. Mr. Northman might be drained in the process, but I believe it would be effective. It's a good Plan B," the good doctor said with a shrug, "at least for about 48 hours."

"And since you believe your premonition will soon come to pass and you don't give a fuck whether I live or die," I started, but let my voice trail off before completing the sentence.

Bill looked back at me—obviously studying me. One thing that I did _not_ see in his eyes was concern for my wellbeing. Typical.

"Taking a lot of his blood will not transform you into a day-walker permanently," Bill said. "You will still become just as unable to be in the sun after two days' time—just as if you'd only taken a vial full."

"I have no reason to want to be a day-walker after all this is over," I said honestly. "Unlike others," I continued with a jabbing look at both Bill and Warlow, "I have never regretted what I am."

The truth was that I didn't want to be a day-walker. I'd been awed by the minutes I'd spent in the sun because of Sookie, but it had come with a heavy price. Just remembering her splayed out and unconscious on a Fangtasia table with fang marks in her neck and wrist made me wish I could have found another way to save us all from Russell at the time. Moreover, I hated the loss of control that taking Claudine's blood had caused in me. It had left me vulnerable. Warlow's blood was going to be _only_ the means to an end for me—not some kind of sunshine fest.

"Surely, you aren't going to let this monster feed from me!" Warlow yelled. "_I _will go to the vampire prison. _I_ will feed them all myself!"

I stiffened a little. Had I overplayed my hand? Warlow's presence as a featured actor in the plan would _not_ be welcome, but it was one of the variables I'd considered—just not one I wanted to be stuck with. However, I was counting on Bill's obstinacy about his "vision."

Simply put, I was counting on Billith being _Bill_.

Silently, I studied him and ignored Warlow's continued supplication.

Bill seemed to be considering Warlow's offer, but eventually he shook his head. "You are not the one in the premonition, nor am I," he told the fairy-vampire hybrid.

I held back my look of triumph. Bingo.

Bill continued, "It is _Eric_ in that room, so he must be the one to go," he said stubbornly.

"But the whole point is to change the future!" Warlow insisted reasonably.

"And so we shall," Bill replied mulishly, "by following _my_ plan."

B-I-N-G-fucking-O.

Bill looked at me. "I will agree to all your conditions, but you cannot drain Warlow fully. I need him alive to be _my_ Plan B," he said sarcastically. He pulled out his phone and quickly dialed a number. "I'll need several donors immediately," he ordered into the receiver.

I knew that the donors would be tasked with replenishing Warlow once I was done with him. I wondered if any of them would make it out of the basement alive, given the fairy-vampire's propensity to "lose control" at inopportune—or was it opportune?—moments.

"You fool! You cannot do this!" Warlow said, his eyes begging Bill to see reason.

I wanted to tell him it was a lost cause, but I kept my mouth shut.

"I can and I will," Bill said coldly and condescendingly. "And you will shut the fuck up."

He _really_ did make a douchebag of a demigod.

Bill dialed his phone again. "Cancel the donors until sunrise tomorrow," he said to the person on the other line as he sneered in Warlow's direction.

"Tough love, Bill?" I asked sarcastically, even as I celebrated on the inside. If Warlow was anything like a "normal" vampire, he'd be very weak from blood loss when I was finished with him, and without a donor, he'd stay weak. That would greatly limit his ability to feel the location and emotions of anyone who'd had his blood—including Sookie.

"I've found that it's the best kind of love," Bill said back ominously. "Don't you agree?"

Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to Mr. Douchebag Demigod.

Thankfully, Billith's question was obviously rhetorical, so I didn't respond.

He turned back to Warlow. "As your maker, I command you to cooperate and to allow Eric to feed from you," he said somewhat prissily.

Warlow growled but didn't shown any other signs of aggression as Bill approached his cage.

"How do you keep him from shooting his fairy light in here?" I asked, looking around the room curiously.

"I have commanded him not to," Bill informed. "Plus, the cage is made of silver and iron; the iron interferes with his Fae abilities. In fact, by a lucky chance, the whole basement was constructed with an alloy that contains both silver and iron."

"The _perfect_ supernatural prison. You should have compared notes with Governor Burrell before you killed him," I said dryly.

He rolled his eyes and ignored my snide comment. "You will feel intoxicated after you drink from him," Bill warned. "I drank only a little each time and have _much_ control, given my new make-up. However, even I felt a small effect from his blood."

I shrugged. "So much the better. His blood will be but a little fuel added to the fire I already feel for my enemies," I commented truthfully, "an aid for what I will be doing tonight." I put the vials in my pocket.

"_Store_ those now," Bill commanded, "just in case you are too drunk to remember to do so later."

I rolled my eyes, dropped my pants, and inserted the vials at vampire speed before Bill could say anything else. However, I left my pants down longer than needed so that both Warlow and Bill could see the bright red lipstick print right next to my cock.

After all, nudity was never bothersome to a Scandinavian. Plus, I'd been hoping to find a way to show off that particular print.

Sookie's sweet teasing.

Warlow growled, his eyes fixed on the "painted" spot. Bill looked amused by Warlow's reaction—though a little bored otherwise.

I crossed off another item on my mental checklist.

"See something you like?" I asked Warlow mockingly as I started to pull up my pants at a very leisurely pace. "Or do you just want to get a better look," I smirked, "so you can see how you'd compare in Sookie's eyes—or _mouth_." I gave myself a stroke or two and felt my cock stir to life as I looked at Sookie's perfect lip print. "Let me warn you that I'm even more of a grower than I am a show-er, so you'll probably come out on the _short_ end of the stick. Or," I paused, "perhaps you'd like for me to leave my pants off while I take your blood."

"Sus tu es!" Warlow fumed in Latin. ["_You are a pig_!"]

"A pig—eh?" I smirked. "Maybe the phrase you are looking for is 'hung like a horse.'"

Warlow went back to his snarl-pout.

I chuckled and pulled up my pants the rest of the way when it looked like Warlow was about to lose his mind and Bill was about to lose his patience. Riling _ex_-rivals was so goddamned fun that it should have been illegal. It even made the fact that I was now a vampire carrier pigeon bearable.

"Will you order him not to turn Sookie _before_ I'm too drunk to notice?" I requested, trying to sound mostly uninvested in what Bill's response would be.

"No!" Warlow beseeched. Neither Bill nor I paid him any mind.

Bill nodded and looked at Warlow. "Warlow, as your maker, I command you to never turn Sookie _unless_ she gives you _explicit_ permission to do so."

"You bastards," Warlow cursed softly as a pinkish drop rolled down his cheek. Not quite blood, not quite tear. But it still smelled delicious nonetheless. "I will kill you both for this!" Warlow threatened.

"You should keep him in this cage indefinitely," I suggested to Bill, keeping my voice even. "After all, he's already found a way to kill one maker."

"You only want him here so that he'll stay away from Sookie," Bill responded.

"True," I said honestly. "But—as you said—she is likely to alter her affections sooner rather than later. Maybe she's already mounting the mutt. Or—perhaps—you will get the next ride on her 'merry-go-round of love,'" I said acerbically. "Regardless," I continued more seriously, "you should probably keep an eye on her once she returns to town. "Lest she try a 'daring rescue attempt' for this one," I said gesturing toward Warlow.

"_My_ Sookie will come for me!" Warlow insisted.

I wanted to laugh at his delusions, but they made him all the more dangerous to my bonded.

"Will you not be with Sookie when she returns?" Bill asked.

"What? Stay in this town? No—I have Fangtasia to see to and a new progeny to train—_if_ I survive what is to come. Plus," I smiled sinisterly, "I'm sure that there are _many_ more responsible for the Vamp Camp and the TruBlood factory than will be there tonight. Before I am done, I will kill _all_ in restitution for my sister."

Bill glared at me. "That is _not_ part of my plan."

"Do not worry. I will be patient—at least for now," I lied smoothly. "And—when the time comes, I will be," I paused, "_discreet_ in taking my revenge."

"I doubt discretion is in your bloody vocabulary!" Warlow scoffed.

I chuckled. "My vocabulary _is_ very 'bloody.' Are you ready to find out just how much?"

I winked at the serial snarl-pouter and then moved behind him before sinking my fangs into his neck.

The sound of his tearing flesh was even more satisfying than I'd thought it would be.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for your responses to the last chapter! I love reading what you have to say, and I'm happy and proud that so many people are enjoying my version of things following Nora's death! What can I say? You all help to keep me excited about the stories I write, which is such a wonderful gift!**

**I hope that all the stuff about how the different kinds of blood work was not too tedious or hard to follow. Given some of the inconsistencies on the show, it was difficult to come up with a logical explanation for the way the blood worked in this story. **

**To clarify: In **_**Funeral**_**, the effects of Warlow's blood won't just "disappear" if he dies. After all, Claudine was dead, yet her blood kept Eric safe until it wore off. And I did ****not**** want day-walking to be permanent either! Ridiculous! In my spin of things, the amount of "sun safety time" for the vampire is directly proportional to the age of the fairy. I imagined it like this: For every hundred years old a fairy is, his/her blood will "live" about an hour once a vampire drinks it. **

**When Eric took Claudine's blood, it was still dark outside, and in this story, he was safe in the daylight for a couple of hours, so Claudine might have been 300-400 years old (her blood remaining intact in him for 3 hours or so). **

**Warlow—as a 5,500 year old—would have Fae blood that would survive in another body for around 55 hours or so, which, depending on the time it was taken, would allow for 2-3 "sun-safe days." **

**Make sense? It does in my head, but that's no guarantee that I'm conveying it right. The important things to note are that: 1.) NO permanent day-walking; 2.) After he takes Warlow's blood, Eric will have about 55 hours before he feels "unsafe" in the sun (no matter what happens to Warlow); 3.) Just like what happened to Eric when Claudine's blood wore off, there will be some "warning time" for the vampires when Warlow's blood wears off. Their skin will begin to redden and they will want to seek shelter; they won't just burst into flames; 4.) Warlow's blood in Bill wore out sometime during the night, so he simply didn't notice that it was "gone" until the sun was about to rise. **

**Anyway, hope that's clear-**_**ish**_**. **

**Cheers,**

**Kat**


	13. Chapter 13: When I'm Drunk, I Bite

**Chapter 13: When I'm Drunk, I Bite**

_I try not to drink too much because when I'm drunk, I bite.—Bette Midler_

* * *

**Eric POV**

_I winked at the serial snarl-pouter and then moved behind him before sinking my fangs into his neck. _

_The sound of his tearing flesh was even more satisfying than I'd thought it would be. _

I'll admit it.

Warlow's blood—at least half of it—was flavorsome. However, because of the vampire blood that came with the Fae blood, it wasn't nearly as tasty as Claudine's blood. And it was certainly not as stirring as Sookie's.

However, it was still an enjoyable meal.

Contrary to what I'd led Bill to believe, taking Warlow's blood was _not_ Plan B. It was a part of Plan A. I wanted Warlow to be weakened—at least for a little while. And I needed to know just how his blood worked. Moreover, depending on my experimentation, I had other uses in mind for the vials—now that I knew Warlow's vampire blood had been removed from it.

However, taking Warlow's blood was the part of "the plan" that held the most variables. If I became too inebriated, I might not even remember "the plan," after all! And that would put everything that was most important to me—my progenies and Sookie—at risk.

I steadied my mind as I swallowed my first gulp of Warlow's blood. Allowing myself to become slightly intoxicated was acceptable—necessary even—but I couldn't afford to lose control completely. When I'd drained Sookie's fairy godmother, I'd retained very little self-restraint and almost no self-preservation. I couldn't let that happen this time.

I recalled flashes of what occurred after I drained Claudine, but—like a drunk human—all my actions and thoughts had been fuzzy at the time. In fact, if Sookie hadn't called Herveaux to track me down, I would have likely stayed in the sun until there was nothing left of me other than ash and sludge.

With their blood, fairies had a truly efficient and devastating defense mechanism against vampires—a game-changer. If I'd not finished off Claudine or if there had been another fairy lying in wait, I would have been a very easy target. I was determined to fight the effects of the Fae blood—to make sure that didn't happen now.

In that battle, I knew I had some advantages. First, I had the knowledge that came with my experience of drinking pure Fae blood before. Second, I had Takahashi's research to employ. And—most importantly—I had my bond with Sookie to "hide" inside.

Even before learning more information from Takahashi, I'd hoped to use the bond to keep myself as level-headed as possible. Knowing how Warlow's blood avoided the bond inside of Sookie, I figured it would do something similar in me—especially now that some of Sookie's light was enveloping the bond in my body too.

Even as I swallowed another gulp of Warlow's blood, everything Takahashi had told me about his research was playing out like a scripted performance inside of my body.

Remarkably, it felt as if I were drinking from _two_ beings at the same time. The vampire and Fae blood entered me as if from completely different sources.

The vampire blood was thick and moved into my body sluggishly—begrudgingly. Vampires, in general, hated feeding on and giving blood to other vampires. Unless it came from one's maker or child, another vampire's blood would provide very little nourishment or healing. And—given how guarded vampires were—we wanted no others to have knowledge of our emotions. For that reason alone, vampires rarely drank from each other—unless in battle when the death of the opponent was imminent.

Sadly, that wasn't the case this time.

Even as I swallowed another gulp, I made sure that most of my own feelings were secure within the bond. Just as I had expected, Warlow's blood was repelled by that—now essential—part of myself.

Meanwhile, I let Warlow feel only my pleasure in feeding, and I activated some of my own blood to "study" his. Though old and powerful, his vampire blood was behaving just like any other vampire's blood would have. From the moment it touched mine, it had begun to deteriorate—a kind of automatic self-destructive sequence of sorts. That was why vampires couldn't form bonds with each other—beyond the maker-child bond. However, even those bonds were not really between two vampires. They were started while the child was still a human and solidified before the transformation to vampire was completed.

Weak ties could be created between vampires, but only if blood was exchanged. Thus, there was currently a disproportionate "relationship" between my blood and Warlow's blood. Because I was the one feeding, Warlow would be able to sense my emotions—at least, the ones I gave him access to. On the other hand, I was able to "study" the chemical make-up of his vampire blood. As far as I could tell, there was nothing abnormal or remarkable about it. And that was good news! It meant that as soon as my bond with Sookie was completed, his fragile tie with her would die.

While Warlow's vampire blood was nauseatingly cloying, his Fae blood was fucking scrumptious. Concentrating on that aspect of the feeding, I pulled a little harder with my next gulp. Whereas the vampire blood was dense, the Fae blood was light—almost like drinking air. In fact, I felt like I could drink it all day without getting my fill of it; I _wanted_ to drink it all day. It coursed into me like a sprinter, and my own blood immediately wanted to make chase—to try to consume it at the cellular level.

However, because of my experience with Claudine's blood and because of what Takahashi's research had concluded, I knew that giving my blood permission to "chase" the Fae blood was what would cause me to feel drunk. _That_ was how I'd lose control. _That_ was how I'd become vulnerable.

The trick was that—to convincingly play the role I needed to play—I _had_ to lose a little control and I _needed_ to be a little vulnerable, at least for a while. So I gave only a fraction of my blood permission to pursue the Fae blood. Immediately, I felt what humans would call "tipsy." However, I still felt able to stay in control overall—to keep my mind focused on what I had to accomplish next. Basically, I needed to take as much of Warlow's blood as Bill would let me take. And then I needed to stir up the hornet's nest—so to speak.

The only snafu in my plan so far was that Warlow's blood wasn't causing me to get aroused, which—frankly—I'd been counting on being. Every other time I'd taken any amount of Fae blood before—even under less than ideal circumstances—I'd become hard as a fucking rock, but Warlow just wasn't doing it for me.

Luckily, I quickly thought of a "Plan B" to remedy the problem. I concentrated on Sookie's residual scent on my clothing and body—as well as the memory of her literally coming undone as we'd had our second blood exchange. And then—there was the way her lips had looked when they were wrapped around my cock during what she called our "bonding trip" to the meadow. In that dreamscape, the sun had been warming my face and the wildflowers had been fragrant, but I'd barely noticed my surroundings as Sookie had given me the most phenomenal blowjob of my existence.

She'd never pleasured me that way before; however, the moment that my chosen mate had figured out that she didn't have much of a gag reflex—and then found a way to suck most of me into her beautiful fucking mouth and throat—would be a memory I was sure to replay millions of times. God—she had looked untamable as she'd made herself cum with her fingers even as she'd driven me to ecstasy with her mouth.

Yep—that memory did it! My cock finally decided to cooperate; hell, it was likely standing up so that it could conduct its own one-eyed search for Sookie! I couldn't blame it.

I took several more long pulls from Warlow. I could feel him weakening. He was now slumping to the point that I was holding him up. I had a brief hope that Bill might just let me drain Warlow dry. That would solve a problem.

However, as always, Bill was a fucking spoilsport.

"That's enough!" Bill warned.

"Mmm," I purred against Warlow's neck as I stopped drinking and gave his flesh a long lick over where I'd bitten. "You taste even better than Sookie," I lied as I let him feel my erection against his ass.

"_Vos esse sordidas_!" he hissed. [Latin translation: "_You are foul_!"]

"That's not what Sookie said last night," I goaded as I licked him again. "Tell me—did you _feel_ how many times she came for me?"

In the next second, I was on my back on the floor, and Warlow's fangs were in my neck. However, because he was weakened, I was able to throw him to the other side of his cell pretty easily. However, in his rage, he was already preparing to attack again—despite the fact that he was teetering on his feet from blood loss—as I stood up.

"Stop!" Bill ordered. "As your maker, Warlow, I command you to stay where you are!"

Warlow looked positively lost in bloodlust as his fists clenched, but he didn't move other than to lean against the wall where I'd thrown him.

"You got enough?" Bill asked as he turned to me and watched me brush myself off.

"I did," I responded with a chuckle. I looked at Warlow and licked my lips. "You _really_ are delicious, and I can tell you enjoyed my attentions just as much as I enjoyed giving them." I looked down at Warlow's erection. Based on what I could tell by the bulge in his pants, Sookie was right. Warlow's cock looked to be only about an inch shorter than mine; however it wasn't nearly as thick.

He was no competition, especially given the fact that Sookie was my own personal Goldilocks.

_Just fucking right! _

I smirked at him.

Warlow growled. "_Abominatio es_!_ Non dignus satis pro Sookie_!" ["_You are disgusting_!_ Not worthy enough for Sookie_!"]

I leered at him. "Judging from _your_ reaction, I'm guessing that you wouldn't mind if I gave you the same kind of treatment as I gave her last night," I offered, as I stroked my cock through my pants.

As he continued to growl at me, I could feel Warlow's Fae blood attempting to stir more of mine into a frenzy. Obviously, that was how it worked to defend its source, though I didn't sense that Warlow had any conscious control over his Fae blood inside of me. Interestingly, even that blood was steering clear of my bond with Sookie. Thus, I made sure to keep my main focus there, though I allowed a little more of my blood to "chase" the Fae blood inside of me. I needed for both Bill and Warlow to believe that I was truly intoxicated.

Given the fact that Warlow had bitten me in his anger, a weak tie had formed between us. I could feel his rage and his fatigue. I could also feel his lust and shame; it seemed that he _did_ want for me to fuck him, after all. Well. Well. Well.

I knew the tie wouldn't last for long. I could feel my own blood inside of him; it was already trying to destroy itself. By rule, vampire blood kept its integrity inside of another vampire for only a little while—generally less than an hour, no matter what its age. Now that we had a weak tie, Warlow and I would keep our connection for only about a day. However, once I left the area, I would no longer feel his emotions, nor would he feel any of mine. He would be able only to tell that I was alive, but that was all "the plan" called for.

And, of course, the weak-as-shit tie I had with him would be immediately eradicated if—say—I completed a bond with someone.

For the next few minutes, however, I wanted to feel his emotions. Right now, for example, I could tell that he still wanted to kill me and to fuck me—though probably not in that order. And—as disgusting as the thought of sex with Warlow was to me—I needed to continue to taunt him for a few more minutes in order to keep him enraged and distracted.

"So," I asked with a slurry purr, "would you like the Eric Northman treatment before I go?"

"_Abi in malam rem_, you fucking bastard!" Warlow yelled in a mixture of Latin and English. [Latin translation: "_Go to the devil (hell), you fucking bastard_!"]

I chuckled. "You forget. I've had your blood. I can _feel_ your lust for me." I licked my lips. "You would like for me to fuck your sweet little ass—wouldn't you?"

Bill looked down and saw Warlow's cock pushing against his pants. He chuckled as well. "Indeed. I believe he would."

"No!" Warlow denied."

"It doesn't really matter," I said, shrugging my shoulders. I laughed maliciously. "Perhaps you were thinking of a threesome with Sookie and me. I know I was." I winked.

"_Vos monstrum!_ Leave her alone!" Warlow yelled, even as he slumped down the wall a little more. [Latin translation: "_You are a monster_!"]

I chuckled heartily, which caused me to wobble on my feet. I was definitely more inebriated than before, but I was still cognizant enough to do what needed to be done.

Luckily, Bill unwittingly provided me with the perfect opportunity to do just that when he abruptly changed the topic.

"_Was_ Warlow correct about the bond?" he asked as if attempting to trip me up mentally.

I celebrated inside. It was just the topic I'd been hoping for!

"'Bout what?" I responded, overrunning my words a bit more than I needed to. It would be best if Bill believed that I was too drunk to lie.

"Did you form a bond with Sookie?" he asked pointedly.

I laughed. "You have more blood in her than I ever did. Can you feel a bond in her?"

Though he looked at me suspiciously, he shook his head. "No. I cannot. However, Warlow believes that you have a bond with her. He thinks _that_ is why neither he nor I can detect her emotions or location as well as we should."

I stifled a grin. Bill was playing right into my hands. I had figured that I would have to manipulate Warlow to bring up the bond topic. However, I was grateful for Bill's unintentional "assistance," especially since I wasn't sure how long I'd be able to keep my drunkenness at bay if I continued to allow some of my blood to pursue the Fae blood inside of me.

I laughed mirthlessly and staggered a little for effect. "What's got you so upset?" I asked with a fake pout in Warlow's general direction. "Are you mad 'cause you couldn't bond with your little fairy?"

"Have you?" Bill asked me again. "Bonded with her?"

"What?" I asked bitterly—channeling the behavior I'd witnessed from people Pam called 'angry drunks.' "You think I bonded with the woman who spurned me? A woman who seems ready to fuck anyone and take all the vampire blood she can?" I shook my head and staggered again, this time because I couldn't help it. "Yeah—I got right on that," I deadpanned.

"Then why wasn't _he_ able to bond with her?" Bill asked with curiosity as he glanced at Warlow. "He claims to have attempted it."

I hiccupped. Sadly, it wasn't on purpose, but I kept my wits about me. "I'd guess it's the same reason I could never use my blood to control her as I could have a regular human. I imagine that you tried too—just as I did," I slurred.

"Yes," Bill admitted. "You are right about Sookie's ability to resist a vampire's influence. Even with a lot of my blood in her, I found it," he paused, "challenging."

I kept my anger to myself. Now wasn't the time to pick a 'bar fight' with a demigod.

"But," Bill continued, "Sookie's body _attempted_ to resist taking my blood the last time I gave it to her, and that would seem to indicate that something had changed—that you'd started a bond with her."

Luckily, I'd rehearsed my response in case Bill made that connection, and like the well-_seasoned_ actors who worked through their drug-induced hazes or liquor-addled states, I played my part perfectly: I grunted as if truly disgusted by the idea Bill had put forth.

"At the time, you were very much infatuated by Sookie," Bill reminded.

I chuckled and began my planned lines. "Luckily, even though the _Emo_ version of me might have wanted to bond with Sookie, she wouldn't let me take her blood after I drained her 'fairy godmother,'" I said, using sloppily drawn air quotes around that moniker. "And even in my 'pussified' state, I knew better than to give her mine. Hey," I paused, "is 'pussified' a word?"

Bill ignored my sincere question and asked one of his own.

"Why would Sookie initially reject my blood then?" Bill pushed, obviously trying to ensnare the truth out of me because of my drunkenness.

I concentrated on my bond with Sookie to give me the strength I needed to stay in control and to be convincing. "You haven't figured that out?" I slurred incredulously. "_Before_ she embraced her fairy side, she couldn't be glamoured and she could barely be influenced by a tie. Does it _really_ surprise you that she's learned to block us from feeling most of her emotions? Does it _really_ surprise you that she'd reject either your blood or my blood—given the way she's rejected us before? Of course, now that she's entered her 'danger-whore phase,' feel free to give bonding with her a try. I know I'm not going to do it, but knock yourself out!" I laughed wholeheartedly.

"What's so funny?" Bill asked.

I screwed my face in confusion. "I can't remember," I shrugged.

Bill—or rather Billith—laughed at me, looking convinced by my act thus far.

"Anyway," I slurred, ready to fire my final volley, "the boy wonder over there would have been the most able of all of us to form a bond with Sookie."

"How do you figure that?" Bill asked with curiosity even as Warlow perked up to listen to my response as well.

Fish. On. Hooks.

"A shared fairy-ness and all," I said with a hiccup. "His and her fairy lights, his and her towels, his and her coffee mugs," I added with a sloppy smirk. "And," I slurred as I gestured toward Warlow, "even if I'd started a bond with her, I _definitely_ didn't get a chance to finish one, and his would have superseded mine—with him being like . . . ." I paused. "Um—four thousand and—um. Wait. Four thousand and—um." I shrugged and stumbled. "_More_ than four thousand years older than me!" I finished as if in triumph over simple mathematics.

"He is right," Bill said in Warlow's direction. "There would have been no time for him to complete a bond with her. And I have never felt anything resembling a bond inside of Sookie," he added, "either before or after I took Lilith's blood."

_That's because your blood is too afraid to come anywhere near her light, Captain Douchebag_—I thought triumphantly to myself. I almost said it out loud. Luckily, my bond with Sookie seemed to give me a slap just when I needed it to.

"If he can't bond with her, no one can," I opined with a rude gesture in Warlow's direction.

I glanced at the hybrid. Through our weak tie, I could tell that he too had accepted the "truth" that I'd not bonded with Sookie. And—after that acceptance—I felt a mixture of arrogance and hope from him.

Perfect.

I hid my triumph in my bond with Sookie and let Warlow feel only my amusement and drunkenness.

"You know what? I doubt that Sookie can bond with anyone," I said with run together words, even as I prepared the drive the last nail into the proverbial coffin. "In fact," I chuckled in Bill's direction, "why don't you lift the ban on his turning her. 'Cause I bet she can't be turned either!" I laughed heartily as if I'd just told the best joke in the world.

"Why did you ask for the ban to start with?" Bill asked, his eyes narrowed again.

Another slap from the bond prevented me from saying what I wanted to—_subterfuge, misdirection, ruse. Asshole, dickhead, nimrod, fuckwit, douchebag._

Instead, I gave my rehearsed line. "I promised Sookie that I'd take care of the Warlow situation _if_ she had sex with me," I answered cavalierly. "It didn't take much convincing. It seems she's anxious to fuck at the drop of a hat these days." I leered and winked in Warlow's direction. "But then you'd know all about that—wouldn't you."

"You don't care about her at all!" Warlow said incredulously.

"Maybe I could have—in another life," I said with a bitter slur. "But in this one, she's fucked me over too many times to be anything but a convenient fuck to me."

"Bastard!" Warlow scoffed.

I continued with a drunken sneer, "And now that I've had my fill of _filling_ Miss Stackhouse, my priority is revenge." I smiled and slurred, "Just ask Russell Edgington how serious I am about that." I chuckled as if I'd told another joke. "Oh wait—you can't. I staked him."

Bill chuckled.

"I'll kill you," Warlow promised me.

"You can try," I responded with a hiccup. "But look at it this way," I added, "I'm giving you a gift." I looked at Bill, who was still chuckling.

Bill shrugged and looked at Warlow. "As your maker, I lift the command about your never turning Sookie," Bill said lightly, as if the idea didn't bother him at all.

If things hadn't been going exactly as I'd wanted them to go—better even—I might have kicked Bill's ass. However, I was drunk and in a good fucking mood all of a sudden.

"To everything turn, turn, turn," I started singing. It wasn't part of the script, but I really couldn't help myself. It just _felt_ right to sing.

Immediately, Warlow relaxed a little. Why wouldn't he? In his eyes, he could now go for Sookie as soon as he escaped from Bill, which he felt confident he could do. Plus, he no longer saw me as a viable threat for Sookie's affection. I felt that much from his blood.

My work there was done. And done _well_.

"Goddammit!" I yelled with real frustration after hiccupping again.

"What?" Bill asked with amusement.

"I used to get these when I was a human too," I said with another hiccup. "Fucking annoying!"

Bill laughed.

Meanwhile, now that Warlow's rage wasn't filling him, he looked like he was about to fall to the floor out of weariness. I took a moment to enjoy his condition.

"Well, gentlemen," I said, with my most obvious and uncontrolled slur yet. "It's been a pleasure." I bowed with a flourish. "But I have somewhere else I need to be and many people I need to be killing."

"_Don't_ forget your part in the plan," Bill ordered.

I nodded and then tripped over my own feet as I hiccupped again. Sadly, I really wasn't faking the hiccups. Every bit of my blood that I had allowed to "chase" the Fae blood was as drunk as a skunk.

"Of course," I managed to tell Bill as I gave another exaggerated bow.

Bill zipped in front of me and looked at me as a stern father might. "I mean it, Eric. Keep your shit together!"

I tried to speak more soberly, though I was finding it hard to focus on his face without laughing. "I will. I won't fuck up the plan," I said sincerely, though I was—of course—referring to Sookie and my plan. "And I'll even try to get you word about your progeny before I let myself be captured."

Bill looked a little surprised by my moment of charity—or clarity—but stepped away with a grateful nod. "That would be appreciated."

"Well toodle-oo," I waved, as I zipped out of the room. I hit no fewer than three walls before I was outside.

"Shit," I said aloud, trying to reign in my Fae-pursuing blood.

Not paying any attention to me, it kept marauding. "Shit!" I slurred again.

As soon as I was greeted by the cold air outside, I was also punched by an intense wave of what felt like nausea. "Fuck!" I said as I stumbled in Bill's yard.

I'd counted on being able to "recall" my blood that I'd allowed to chase the Fae blood, but that didn't look like it was going to be easy.

Somehow I rose to my feet and took to the air, hoping like hell that the flight would help me to overcome my drunken state. I certainly zigged and zagged a little at first, but I managed to hone in on my bond with Sookie. I flew toward her location, focusing on only her—needing only her to be my beacon.

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**A/N: As always, thanks for all the comments for the last chapter. Y'all are wonderful! I'm glad that my explanations about the blood are working for y'all. **

**I must confess that I enjoyed writing tipsy Eric. I tried to convey his remaining in control, even as he got a little "toasty" and had a little fun at his **_**ex**_**-rivals' expense. **

**Next up: A sober—I mean Sookie—POV. **

**Cheers,**

**Kat**


	14. Chapter 14: Purgatorio

**Chapter 14: Purgatorio**

_[Virgil to Dante]: This mountain's of such sort_

_that climbing it is hardest at the start;_

_but as we rise, the slope grows less unkind._

_Therefore, when this slope seems to you so gentle_

_that climbing farther up will be as restful_

_as traveling downstream by boat, you will_

_be where this pathway ends, and there you can_

_expect to put your weariness to rest.―Dante Alighieri, Purgatorio (IV, 88-95)_

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**Sookie POV**

"Stop that," Alcide ordered from the crate he was sitting on.

"Stop what?" I asked, unaware that I'd been doing anything that I needed to stop.

"You're on your way to wearing a hole into the floor, and since this warehouse has seen better days, it's not a good idea to take chances," he grinned.

I chuckled as I looked down. Sure enough, a well-established line of my shoeprints leading in both directions had displaced the dust on the floor. We'd arrived at the warehouse half an hour before—following the completion of the first part of our "assignment," and from the looks of things, I'd probably been pacing ever since.

At least my fingernails were still intact.

"It's hard not to worry," I said.

"You really love him," Alcide commented with understanding. "The worry comes from that."

I smiled at him. "Yeah."

"Look," Alcide started, "I know I don't really have room to talk when it comes to picking mates. Hell—I was stuck on Debbie longer than any sane person should've been. And then after that—well—let's just say that I didn't show much more judgment when I picked women after I became pack-master."

I felt my brow rising in question.

He rolled his eyes. "My point is that I knew—knew it in _here_," he said pointing to his head, "that I was making a mistake—with Debbie and the others. I just didn't stop myself."

"Are you asking me if I'm certain about Eric in my head?" I asked.

"Yeah," he responded, running a hand through his thick mane. "Following your heart is all well and good on paper, but in my experience, it gets you into a shit-load of trouble more often than not."

"What if I told you that my head, my heart, and my gut are all in agreement when it comes to Eric?" I asked.

"Then I'd say that I'm glad I helped you—_despite_ the fact that Northman is an insufferable ass." He paused. "He's also a very lucky man—you know."

"_I'm_ the lucky one," I returned quietly.

"I agree with the wolf," Eric said from behind me.

Before I could even turn around to greet him, he pinched my ass.

Luckily, he didn't pinch hard.

Ready to engage my bonded in verbal sparring, I turned around to face him, my hands automatically flying to my hips.

He looked at me with a grin that could only be labeled as "dopey." My heart melted a little bit.

"Sorry," he said with a smirk that clearly indicated he _wasn't_ sorry. "It seemed like tradition."

"You're drunk," I said with fake sternness. In truth, I wasn't surprised. His drinking from Warlow was part of the plan, after all.

"Yep—a little," he confirmed pulling me into his arms and kissing me for all he was worth.

It was clear that he didn't care at all that we had an audience less than ten feet away from us. After a second or two, I have to confess that I didn't care either—not even when Alcide growled with impatience. Nope—no cares given here.

"Mmmm," Eric sounded against my lips, creating one of the most delicious vibrations I'd ever felt. That sound somehow managed to reverberate in my lady parts—several times.

"I missed you," he murmured.

"Missed you too," I mumbled back before he stole any other words I might have said with another kiss.

Alcide cleared his throat. Again—neither Eric nor I seemed that interested in stopping. But then my Gran's voice in my head told me that I was being rude, so I broke the kiss. Eric looked momentarily disappointed, but then winked at me.

"So," I asked somewhat playfully, "just how drunk are you?"

He shrugged. "Just north of tipsy and south of shit-faced—at least after the flight. Before that, I was worse."

"You okay?" I asked. "In control?"

He nodded and I saw confidence in his eyes. "Okay enough."

I sighed with relief, knowing that Eric had been a little worried that taking Fae blood would make it impossible for him to effectively complete the plan.

It had been a risk he'd taken _for me_.

"And Warlow's blood? What did you find out when you took it?" I asked nervously.

"The vampire part of his blood is not that special," he responded. "It's disintegrating in me even as we speak."

That was another relief; it meant that Warlow didn't have any "super-vamp" traits that would act as what Eric called "variables" for our plan.

"And the fairy part?" I asked.

"Its effects are _exactly_ like Claudine's blood," he responded.

I looked at him with confusion. "But you're not as drunk as you were then. I figured that was because Warlow's blood is a mix of Fae and vampire."

"Actually, it's not really a mix at all," Eric informed.

Before my confusion could grow, he explained, "Somehow, Warlow's vampire and fairy blood didn't merge when he was turned by Lilith. It seems that fairies cannot normally be turned into vampires. Warlow is an exception—likely because of Lilith's nature. From what I was able to infer, Warlow has tried and failed to turn full-blooded fairies before—probably quite a few."

I shuddered, thinking of those Warlow drained at the fairy club. "That's why he wants me so bad."

"Yeah—your blood is a true DNA melding of fairy and human, which is why you don't have a standard blood type. And—yes—Warlow thinks that you can be turned," Eric said with concern in his eyes. "In fact, he seems obsessed with the notion."

I shivered again. "So—is the thing we talked about before helping you to keep your focus?" I asked cryptically. I knew that Eric would apprehend that I was referring to our bond, which I wasn't about to mention directly, even if Alcide was trustworthy. The fewer people who knew about the bond, the safer Eric and I would be.

"Yes," Eric confirmed. "And the scientist Bill is using also helped me—by unknowingly giving me a strategy with which to combat the effects of the Fae blood."

"What?"

"Fairy blood is like a vampire booby trap," he smirked as he raked his fingertips along the sides of the two 'boobies' on my chest.

I quickly smacked his hands away and reminded him with my eyes that we weren't in the room alone.

"Too bad," he said aloud.

"How is it a trap?" I asked, ignoring his comment and his wandering hands.

"Well—fairy blood is delicious—maddeningly so—but it's not nourishing," he responded. "If anything, drinking it made me thirstier, which is probably why vampires have a hard time stopping when they drink from a fairy."

"That makes sense," I said. That also explained a little about vampires' reactions to my blood.

"Once Warlow's Fae blood was inside of me, it began to move through my body rapidly and haphazardly, as if in a frenzy. And my blood instinctively wanted to pursue it."

"Let me guess. It's impossible for you to catch it," I speculated.

"Bingo," he smiled at me with pride in his eyes. "You know, you really are a clever woman."

I blushed. "Not all the time."

"Do _not_ sell yourself short. Even when you try just a little," he whispered, moving close enough so that our foreheads touched, "you astound me with your loyalty, your beauty, your courage, _and_ your intelligence."

I'm sure I was blushing even more now. "I'm just trying to keep up with you," I whispered back.

"You do," he said sincerely, placing a kiss on my forehead before backing away enough to capture my eyes with his. The raw affection there made my breath hitch.

I was still astounding that someone like Eric wanted me—especially since I had so little experience and I'd made so many mistakes. But that didn't stop me from being grateful for him.

I smiled up at him.

I shouldn't have been surprised by his words. After all, he'd _already_ proven them with his actions time and time again.

Eric had had confidence that I would be able to find out the identify of the thief at Fangtasia.

He'd had confidence that I could help him find the being that had been the most important in his life—his maker.

He'd had confidence that I could find Bill in Jackson and had even given me help to do it.

He'd had confidence that I had come to Fangtasia—not to kiss him—but to question the effects of Bill's blood in me.

He'd had confidence—though all others had given up hope—that I wasn't dead when I was in the fairy realm.

He'd had confidence that I was _more_—that I could find a balance between fairy Sookie and human Sookie.

He'd had confidence in me even when he didn't remember anything about himself—not even his name.

He'd had confidence in me to help him defeat a witch.

He'd had confidence in me to save him from that same witch—twice.

He'd had confidence in me to help him rescue Bill from the Authority and from Lilith.

He'd had confidence in me to trust my choices, even when they weren't what he wanted—even when they turned out wrong. Even when they caused him pain.

And—most of all—he had enough confidence in me to bond with me, to share his life with me. To make me his mate and partner.

Of course, it had taken my finding a little _self_-confidence before I could see that _every moment _Eric had trusted me was really an offering of love.

"You okay?" he asked as a tear slipped from my eye.

I nodded as he kissed my forehead again.

"So," I commented after a moment of pulling myself together, "it's your blood chasing after the fairy blood in you that makes you feel—um—drunk. And, if you lost control, that would make you an easy target if there were other fairies around. That's why Fae blood is a vampire booby trap."

"Precisely!" Eric said with a look in his eyes that continued to convey his pride in me. I have to say that after being subjected to Bill's patronizing gazes in the past, Eric's expression made me feel _really_ good about myself.

"Dr. Takahashi was able to isolate the behavior of Warlow's Fae blood as it responded to his vampire blood. The vampire and fairy blood actually moved to opposite sides of the slide."

"So—over the years—Warlow must have taught his vampire blood _not_ to chase his Fae blood," I guessed. "That's how he's not—um—drunk on himself all the time."

Eric chuckled. "Something like that."

"So you've told your blood not to chase the—um—Fae blood?"

Eric nodded. "Exactly! At least that's what I commanded of most of my blood. However, I had to let myself get a _little_ drunk."

"So that Bill and Warlow wouldn't know what a badass you are?" I asked a little flirtatiously.

"Oh—they know _that_ already," he winked.

I rolled my eyes. "So—why aren't you sober now?"

He sighed, "Since I left Bill's, I've been trying to _convince_ my blood—one cell at a time—not to chase the Fae blood. Some of my cells, however, just won't cooperate."

"Which is why you're still a little drunk," I observed.

"At least the hiccupping has stopped."

I chuckled as I tried to picture Eric hiccupping.

"It wasn't funny," he pouted.

"Your pouting isn't funny either," I deadpanned.

He glared as me a little but then winked.

"So—um—the Fae blood. Do you think Warlow can use it to track me—_us_—now?" I asked with concern. I'd avoided asking that question so far. After all, Eric's answer to it would determine whether we'd be able to go through with the final part of our plan that morning.

"No," he answered with certainty. "From what I can tell from my own experience and from what Dr. Takahashi said, it seems like the fairy blood acts on pure instinct before it burns itself out. It has acted in me just as I thought it would."

"So that means Warlow isn't controlling the Fae blood in any way?" I asked, needing to be sure.

"None that I can discern," Eric confirmed.

The next thing I knew, my right hand was against his heart and a little ball of light had moved from my palm and into his chest. I gasped in surprise, looking from my hand to Eric's eyes.

"What the fuck?" I heard from Alcide, though I didn't acknowledge him.

"Eric?" I asked tentatively. His eyes looked like a sea of emotion, just as they had when I'd shot him with my light at the ill-fated Festival of Tolerance.

"Shit!" I said when he didn't answer. "I'm sorry! I don't know what happened. Please! Are you okay?" I asked as I raised a shaky hand to his cheek.

"I'm fine," he said after a few more seconds.

"Did I hurt you? Please—tell me I didn't hurt you!" I begged.

"You did not," he said, his expression awestruck. "Sookie, how did you know that your light would help me recover my control—my sobriety?"

"Um—it did?" I asked.

"Yes," he responded.

"Um—I didn't know," I confessed. "I wasn't even aware that I was shooting you with my light until it was too late to stop it," I said worriedly. "Are you sure I didn't hurt you?"

He shook his head. "No—you didn't hurt me. Physically, it felt the same as when you shot me with your light before. No pain—just a kind of healing."

"Healing?" I asked.

"Before—at the Festival of Tolerance—your light cured me of the witch's curse and returned my memories to me. This time, your light traveled straight to our bond and then reverberated through my body, strengthening _all_ of my blood."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah—really," he smiled. "As soon as the bond sparked, I felt able to control the 'rogue' blood cells in me which were still pursuing the Fae blood. And when my blood cells stopped chasing the Fae cells, they stopped running. In fact, your light may have subdued them. They are intact—so I'm sure that they will protect me from the sun—but they are no longer moving."

"So—they're just—um—chillin' out inside of you?" I asked. "Wow!"

"Wow indeed," he said with a chuckle and an all-too-brief kiss on my lips. "So," he said softly, taking my chin in his hand. I leaned into his touch.

"So?" I asked.

"You didn't know that would sober me up?"

"No," I whispered.

"What were you thinking right before you touched me?" he asked with intrigue in his beautiful blue eyes.

"I was just—uh—thinking that I wished I could do something to give you full control over the Fae blood in you. I didn't like the thought of you bein' even a little vulnerable."

"And that's _exactly_ what you did," he said with awe in his voice.

"Damn," I heard Alcide say from across the room.

"Damn indeed," Eric said with a smile, though he kept his eyes locked into mine.

I could feel my lips turning up into a smile. "You're the only one, you know."

"The only one?" he asked.

"The only one that I've ever hit with my light and not hurt. Why do you think that is?" I asked.

I didn't expect him to answer out loud—at least not in front of Alcide, but I could think of _several_ reasons. Because I didn't intend for my light to hurt him. Because he'd literally _seen_ my light—from the very start—when even I couldn't. Because my light had chosen him—even before I had. Because we were bonded. Because I loved him.

"Because I love you," he said out loud.

I smiled. "And because I love you."

"And because you'd hate to damage my body when you _so_ clearly have other purposes in mind for it," he winked.

I popped his arm playfully as Alcide grumbled loudly and walked further away from us.

Everything go okay on your end?" I asked.

He nodded. "Better than expected."

"So you can really feel Warlow's blood inside of you?"

"Yeah," he confirmed.

"You're—uh—tied to him?"

"It's a weak tie—just a _normal_ vampire tie."

I nodded. He'd told me about ties between vampires when I'd shown concern over him exchanging blood with Warlow. "But he can't feel your emotions—right?"

Eric shook his head. "After I was about a mile from Bill's house, I lost the ability to feel Warlow's emotions, but I _did_ feel it when he became convinced that you and I haven't bonded and that I'm not really a threat for your affections."

"You're not?" I asked playfully.

"Not at all," he grinned. "I'm afraid I showed more interest in screwing Warlow than you."

"That's just gross," I said smacking his arm.

He winked. "Sorry—it seems that I'm a scallywag."

I chuckled. "Well—that's probably true."

"_Probably_?" he asked, feigning hurt.

"_Definitely_," I said, smacking his arm again.

"Such physical violence," he teased, rubbing his arm as if I could ever hurt him.

"So you convinced them that you don't care about me?" I asked.

"Oh yes," he confirmed a little arrogantly. "Though it was difficult to stay in character," he added sincerely.

"But it was necessary," I said.

He nodded.

"Because later on when I disappear from their radars," I started.

"They'll think you're dead," he finished my thought. "And they won't suspect you're 'gone' because of a bond."

"You're sure Warlow can't—uh—feel your emotions, right? He's so old, after all."

"Not from this distance," Eric said. "But to be safe, I'm still keeping most of my feelings concentrated in our bond."

"What _can_ you feel from him?" I asked.

"Just that he still exists," Eric said.

"And that's normal for a vampire-vampire tie?"

"From this distance—absolutely," he confirmed.

I sighed, feeling relief wash over me again. "Good," I smiled.

"What about you? Did all go as planned?" he asked.

"Yep—the jamming stuff you had _definitely_ screwed up their cameras long enough for Alcide to create a _real_ technical error. It took them two hours to fix it all."

"And the rest?" he followed up.

"Once the cameras were down, we had no problems getting the explosives set," I reported evenly. I wasn't about to apologize for helping Alcide more than had been planned when a _change_ of plans had been justified.

"_We_?" Eric asked, though he didn't look surprised. "Alcide was supposed to set the charges himself, leaving you in safety after you determined where the humans in the building were stationed."

"_We_," I answered confidently. "Because of what Billith did to the governor, the guard patrols have doubled, and they were moving around a lot, so Alcide needed this," I pointed to my head, "to make sure he could avoid them and still get the charges set where we needed them based on the blueprints you drew for us. And," I paused.

"And?" he asked.

"And don't tell me that you didn't _know_ I'd be going in there," I challenged him.

He sighed, but then kissed me. "Of course I knew." He paused. "It is just taking me a while to balance my need for a true partner with my desire to keep you chained up so that you will remain safe." He paused. "But I'm working on it."

I grinned, but my smile faded quickly.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Jason is definitely in there," I reported.

"I got a scent on him in one of the main vampire holding areas; it's where the Level One women are being kept," Alcide said.

Eric looked at Alcide and nodded in appreciation for the knowledge shared.

"Jason was asleep for a lot of the time while we were in there, but when he woke up, he was nervous and scared," I explained. "According to his thoughts, he'd had a female vampire taking care of him—someone named Violet—but she, Tara, Jessica, Pam, and Willa got taken away when they refused to drink the new TruBlood. Some of the other stronger vampires in the room seem to have staked a claim on him now and have been feeding on him. He's scared that he's gonna be drained before Violet gets back."

"Can you hear him now?" Eric asked.

I shook my head. "No. I'm too far away."

"Sookie, you _have_ to promise me that you'll stay away tonight," Eric said, his eyes piercing into me. "You've done your part beautifully, and you helped me come up with a plan that is _going_ to work. However, once I start letting the vampires loose, they are going to attack anything they can. If they haven't drunk the TruBlood, then they will be starving."

"I know," I said quietly. "I wish I could help in there, but I know I'd just be a liability to you."

He smiled. "Who is this wise woman in front of me?"

"Sookie Stackhouse," I smiled back.

"Yes," he said, bending down to kiss me again.

"I will go to where Jason is being kept first," he promised with a whisper against my lips.

"Thanks," I said quietly.

Eric turned to look at Alcide. "The explosives?"

He walked to us and handed Eric a cell phone.

"Just turn it on and dial 'M' and then the number key," Alcide said.

Eric chuckled. "'M' for murder."

"And mayhem," I said evenly. "I picked the code."

Eric looked back at me. "Are you okay? You know what I'm going to be doing in there."

I straightened my shoulders, steeling myself. "Every single human in that building—except Jason—hates vampires and wants to torture _and_ kill them." I shook my head as I recalled the sick and twisted thoughts from the people at both the Vamp Camp and the TruBlood factory. No one—not even the guards or the secretaries or the accountants or the computer people—was there just to get a paycheck. _Everyone_ in that building was on board with the evil agenda of the late Governor Burrell and Sarah Newlin. And all had participated in what they thought of as "their God-given duty to eradicate vampires from the face of the earth." I knew that even Gran would agree that that kind of fanaticism and hate needed to go—for the better of all vampirekind _and_ humankind.

I sighed. "The things that they are doing—their experiments—are horrible! So," I paused, "the way I see it, you are a soldier, going in there to fight your enemy and to save your people."

Eric kissed me hard, obviously grateful for my understanding. I knew that I'd just sanctioned _a lot_ of violence on his part. But I couldn't find it in me to feel bad about it. Eric was at war. Hell—all vampires were at war. And—in war—people died. My bonded was a warrior at heart, a warrior who had a score to settle. I was proud of him.

I loved him.

Moreover, I was on his side, willing to fight and die right next to him in that war.

"Thank you," he whispered as he broke our kiss.

"Just be careful," I said, not bothering to hide the tear slipping from my eye.

"Before I go, tell me _your_ Plan B," he insisted.

"I won't need it," I insisted back, just as I had the night before when he'd demanded that we come up with it.

High-handed vampire. _Beautiful_ vampire.

"Tell me anyway. I need to hear you say it," he said with beseechingly. "I _have to_ know that you're going to be safe."

I sighed. "If you die in there, I go home and wait."

"For what?"

"For Warlow to come."

"And he _will_ come. He'll eventually get away from Bill," Eric said warningly.

I nodded. I'd gotten only a taste of Warlow's obsession with me. I knew that he wouldn't just give up.

"Then what?"

"It depends," I said, my lips quivering.

"On?"

"On whether he killed Bill to get away."

"If he _did_ find a way to kill Bill?" Eric asked.

"Then I pretend to be happy to see him, lull him into a false sense of security, and find the opportune time to use my one big blast of light to kill him. And then I live a 'normal' life," I said as another tear fell.

"And if Bill's _not_ dead yet?"

"I act scared of Bill and insist that Warlow and I escape to the fairy world 'waiting room' so that Bill can't call him again."

"And then?"

"I leave his ass there to starve," I said coldly.

"Good. What next?"

"I go to Bill and shoot him with my one big blast of light, and then I live a 'normal' life."

"And you try to be happy," Eric ordered.

"I won't be," I said as more tears fell from my eyes and I reached up to touch his cheek. "_You_ are my 'normal,' Eric. I was just too dumb to see that before."

"Sookie," he said quietly as he kissed the tears away. "How many times do I have to tell you that you're not dumb?"

"One more," I whimpered, "when you get back."

We were quiet for a moment.

"What do you do if Pam tries to make trouble for you?" he picked up.

He was as relentless as I was stubborn.

"I give her your amulet," I said as I sniffled.

"You remember how to find it?" he asked.

"Yes. And I remember about the money you made me promise to take."

"Good," he said. "Tell me the combination of the safe in the safe house."

The home was one that even Pam didn't know about; Eric had put it in my name.

"It's _the_ date," I said in barely a whisper.

"Of?" he asked.

"The day I walked into Fangtasia for the first time."

"Yes," he said. "One of the best days of my existence."

"Mine too," I agreed with a little smile.

"And if Plan B isn't feasible, go to Bill. I believe him to be the lesser of two evils right now or . . . ," Eric paused. "Or form a bond with someone else. Pam or Tara. The vampire who is set to glamour your friends is also an option and would do it for you."

"You asked him?" I questioned.

"Yes," he responded—in case Pam and Tara don't get out of the Vamp Camp alive. But Pam would be best."

"Pam wouldn't do it," I said.

"She _would_. Just give her the amulet and tell her that I told you to say the word, 'snälla.'"

"What does it mean?"

"It means 'please,'" he said. "There is a joke between Pam and me that I will say that word only if I'm dying."

Another tear fell. "Okay," I nodded. "_Please_ be safe. I like Plan A best."

"I'll try," he promised as he secured the phone Alcide had handed him in his pocket; he would use it before dawn only in case of emergency. He looked at Alcide. "Keep her safe."

"As safe as I can make her," Alcide swore.

Eric nodded and reached out his hand to shake Alcide's.

Both Alcide and I were surprised. In truth, Eric looked a little surprised too.

Reluctantly, Alcide reached out and took Eric's proffered hand.

"I still think you're an arrogant bastard," Alcide said.

Eric laughed. "And I still think you're a flea-bitten mongrel."

"Don't disappoint her by getting yourself killed," Alcide ordered.

Eric nodded and looked back at me. He lowered his forehead to mine as Alcide stepped away to give us some privacy. "Dawn will come before you know it," he said.

"They say it's always darkest right before that," I whimpered.

"If I'm not back by sunrise," he started.

"We'll blow it up," I promised.

"I love you, Sookie Stackhouse," he told me.

"I love you, Eric Northman," I echoed.

He gave me a gentle kiss before turning to go.

"Plan A better work, or I'm gonna kick your ass—even if I need a stepstool to do it," I said under my breath.

He chuckled as he zipped out of the room.

* * *

**A/N: Well—here I am at "normal" _True Blood_ time—offering you an "episode!"**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's been one of the most emotional for me to write thus far (except for the grave scene). Our Viking is a warrior, and this is the calm before the storm.**

**Thanks—as always—for the wonderful comments about the story. I love all your kind words!**

**On another note, I wanted to give a special shout-out to makesmyheadspin and Scribeninja (the Brainmates). I've been enjoying their story _Just a Little Heat_ and found out that MMHS has been following _Funeral_ too. I had a lovely squeal. Check out _Just a Little Heat_ if you haven't already. ¡Me gusta mucho!**

**Again, thanks for reading and all your comments are appreciated!**

**Cheers,**

**Kat**


	15. Chapter 15: Inferno, Part 1

**Chapter 15: Inferno, Part 1**

_I am the way into the city of woe,_

_I am the way into eternal pain,_

_I am the way to go among the lost._

_Justice caused my high architect to move,_

_Divine omnipotence created me,_

_The highest wisdom, and the primal love._

_Before me there were no created things_

_But those that last forever—as do I._

_Abandon all hope you who enter here.―Dante Alighieri, Inferno (III, 1-11)_

* * *

**Eric POV**

Before my human life ended, my fighting skills were marveled at by both my friends and my foes alike. It wasn't that I was the best fighter, though I was. It wasn't that I practiced more than others, though I did. It wasn't even that I made sure that my mind was as fine-tuned as my body, though I did that too.

What truly set me apart was that I could stay on a battlefield for days if need be—for as long as it took for my enemies to be vanquished. I would not tire. I would not weaken. I would not take rest.

Even the night I was mortally wounded, I didn't leave the battlefield until hours after I'd sustained the injury. As usual, my force was outnumbered when we engaged our enemy, but we fought well and would have likely won if I'd not been hurt.

I do not recall being wounded. I do not recall who did it or how it was done. I do not recall pain until the blood around the wound had already gone cool to the touch.

I was too busy fighting—slaying my enemies—to notice any of those things. The men around me didn't notice my condition either—not until I fell to my knees from blood loss. By then, it was too late for them to do a damned thing to save my life. So they did the only thing they could do for me; they took me off the battlefield and were determined to watch over me until death found me.

As it turned out, it found us all—in the form of Godric.

However, instead of finishing me, Death "recognized" me and chose me as his child.

It did not surprise me. I was already death's servant by then.

After Russell killed my family, all I could think about was dealing out the deaths of my enemies, and there were _many_ to deal out. My father and mother's decades-long work had built a safe haven amidst the factions that surrounded us, but that haven was no more after Russell and his Weres attacked. They killed over half of our people—including many of our best warriors. They stole the livestock that had made us affluent. And, as a final fuck you, they burned our almost-mature crops on their way out.

I was a sixteen winters old when my parents died. I'd certainly been brought up to use a sword, and my body was already hard. But my practices up until then had been mostly with wooden swords, and my own blade had never seen blood until the night the wolves came.

It was not long before it saw much more.

In the wake of my parents' death, marauders and so-called friends alike—who would have never dared strike our village before—came in droves, attacking us while we were weak.

But the village did not fall.

I. Would. Not. Fucking. Let. It. Fall.

During that time, I tortured the raiders—if need be—to discover where they were from and how I could find their villages and hiding places. I did not have enough men to raid—_yet_—but I kept an accounting of everyone who sought to take away that which remained from the life that my parents had created for my sister and myself.

As the leader of the decimated group left behind by the Weres, I became Eiríkr, Dauða Gjafarinn—Eric, the Death Dealer. For the first five years, my remaining people and I rebuilt our village and our numbers, and we fought off all attempted invasions. After that, I led carefully-planned offensives against the villages that had attempted to conquer us in our vulnerable state, always keeping an eye out for the marked beasts who had killed my family. I did not come across them again until long after my human life was over, so I had to settle for the blood of other foes.

However, that blood left me unfilled. And even as I cleaned my sword following a battle, I itched for it to be caked with gore once more.

When I became a vampire, Godric taught me other ways to kill—more intimate ways—with bare hand and fang. And—the older I became—the better I got at it. Ironically, my opportunities to kill became less in number as I became a better killer.

However, despite the many lives I have ended, I was never what my human people would have called a berserker, one who annihilated without control or reason. I invaded many villages, but never killed an innocent. And even as a vampire, I never took life without cause. My father's teaching and my maker's sense of justice prevented me from dealing deaths indiscriminately.

However, when someone decided to make me or mine an enemy, there were no lengths that I wouldn't go to in order to eliminate a threat. But—even in my human life—I had been forced to exercise patience at times. I was certainly _not_ shy when it came to killing one of my enemies, but I always tempered that desire with the need to survive or to protect.

It was early in my life as a vampire that I first became familiar with the teachings of Sun Tzu. He said, "The good fighters of old first put themselves beyond the possibility of defeat, and then waited for an opportunity of defeating the enemy."

Those words gave voice to what I always tried to practice, but recently—and recklessly—I had ignored them. I could have blamed Godric's death for that. Or I could have blamed Sookie for coming into my life and stirring up my emotions in ways I'd never experienced before. But the true problem had been a lack of thought—on my part—before I acted. I had grown impatient during the last several years. For instance, I'd killed Talbot without already having Russell's death planned out. That sloppiness had almost cost Pam, Sookie, and myself our lives. More recently, my arrogance had led to Nora's final death. I'd never for a single second thought that I couldn't defeat a human like Governor Burrell; however, I'd underestimated my opponent, and he'd made me pay dearly by punishing my sister.

As I approached the Vamp Camp, I was more determined than ever to avoid similar errors, so I sifted through my plan one more time, looking for any flaws or unseen variables. I also recalled _why_ I was there. I was motivated by a cruelty the likes of which I'd not seen since Godric and I had destroyed one of the death camps in Nazi Germany. I was motivated by my desire to avenge Nora's death.

But there was so much more.

I was driven by my need to protect that which I had left—Pam, Willa, and Tara—just as I'd done so many years before when I defended my dead parents' legacy from all attackers. I was also driven by the certain knowledge that what waited for me if I succeeded would be more fulfilling than any victory that I'd celebrated or blood that I'd taken.

What waited for me was _life_ itself.

My body now tingling with energy, I cleared my mind of everything except the first step of my plan.

Shock and awe.

I did a quick sweep of my enemies' territory. The Vamp Camp and the TruBlood factory abutted one another, and I knew from firsthand experience that there were corridors connecting them together. The best approach was from the east—where a new and larger loading dock was being built, obviously so that the distribution of the tainted TruBlood could be hurried along.

There were thirteen guards roaming the area. They had on night vision goggles and were fully decked out in combat gear. I had no doubt that the large guns they carried were "vampire-ready" and loaded with silver or wooden bullets.

But there was a funny thing about guns. They couldn't be fired if one's arms had been removed. And there was a funny thing about humans. The last place that they expected to be attacked from was above.

Since I could fly, my favorite Sun Tzu aphorism was, "The quality of decision is like the well-timed swoop of a falcon which enables it to strike and destroy its victim."

And like a bird of prey, I hovered over the group of guards that would be my first victims, calculating the best strategy to inflict the most damage in the least amount of time. I quickly outlined several scenarios, for often the most obvious targets were best left for the end. I chose my best course. I saw every move in my mind—every gunshot the guards would fire, every place they might position themselves so that they could take a kill shot at me. I anticipated where reinforcements would come from and how long they would take. In my head, I won the skirmish several times and in several ways.

And—_then_—I acted.

It was a very good thing that I was wearing all black. Because Eiríkr, Dauða Gjafarinn had come to play, and blood could stain like a son of a bitch.

* * *

The last man to come at me outside the TruBlood factory was as easy to kill as the first, and since he was the last—for the moment, at least—I made it "special" for the both of us by kneeing him in the balls before I ripped his head from his shoulders.

I threw his severed head at the last remaining camera in the area, and my aim was true.

I looked around and took a moment to enjoy the carnage I'd left. Thirty-three dead guards in all: the original 13 plus 20 reinforcements—which had come in four waves of five each. I could hear that there was another squad of five nearing the door, but they stopped. Apparently, now that the outside surveillance had been completely cut off, they were going to wait until I came inside to engage me.

Not that it would matter.

I smiled. Step one of my "invasion" was complete, and I was relatively unscathed—despite all the blood on my clothing. Only a single silver bullet had hit me, ripping through my thigh, but not lodging in my body. The wound was already almost healed, though I decided to finish that healing and replenish my strength by taking blood from a newly-dead foe.

He didn't seem to mind.

After quickly doing that, I made my way through the slaughter, kicking severed body parts out of my path. I was thankful that Sookie couldn't yet feel my emotions. It would have been disconcerting for her to have to experience how _happy_ I was to be on a rampage that made the Tokyo nightclub scene in _Kill Bill_ look like an episode of _Mister Rogers' Neighborhood_.

I knew that my bonded understood—at least on an intellectual level—what I was and what I was capable of doing. But knowing and seeing or _feeling_ were different things. However, I knew—absolutely _knew_—that Sookie was capable of being ruthless. If her friends, her brother, or I were in danger, she'd stop at nothing to save us. I just hoped to spare her from such spectacles of violence as the one I had just created.

But even though I would spare her when I could from seeing the battlefields where I'd fought, I would _not_ apologize for my actions. The best part was that I knew that Sookie's days of asking for such apologies were behind us.

I'd learned by finally killing Russell that revenge was a tasty dish, and with each limb and head I had taken, I had felt "better," as my needs for both vengeance and justice were appeased. I was taking limbs that would gladly kill Pam or Willa or Tara. I was tearing apart men who had laughed at Nora's illness.

I was doing the world a fucking favor. And now I would do the vampires inside a favor.

I walked over to the storage canister closest to the factory and confirmed that the charges Alcide had set were in place. I smiled, impressed with the Were's skill in concealing the explosive device. Since all had gone according to plan, I knew that there were eight other similar devices around the perimeter of the complex, each placed where it would wreck the most havoc. Right next to the explosive was the jamming equipment I'd asked Alcide to leave. I crouched down and activated the next-generation military apparatus, knowing that as long as my enemies couldn't track me with their surveillance equipment, I would maintain the advantage.

They would not see me coming, and that would compound their fear, which would make them easier to defeat.

After checking for immediate threats one more time, I picked up the biggest corpse I could find and proceeded inside. After all, a fully armored human corpse, even without a head, made an excellent shield against silver and wood.

* * *

As I had promised my bonded, I was determined to liberate those in the Gen-Pop 1 room for females first—so that I could get to Jason before even more hell broke loose. However, before I could go to him, I needed to eliminate those in the control rooms that monitored the Gen-Pop 1 rooms.

I was able to get inside the building quite easily, though my "shield" was worse for wear afterwards. I eliminated five guards near the entrance, and then—after making sure that the little red lights on the cameras were indeed unlit—I proceeded to the Vamp Camp side of the complex—with a new human corpse as a shield, of course.

I'd memorized as much as I could of the layout of the building during my previous "visit" there. And even I had to admire the ingenuity of the design of the building.

Each Gen-Pop room was flanked on two sides by control rooms. In all, there were eight Gen-Pop rooms that were arranged in a square so that each control room monitored two Gen-Pop areas.

The vampires were—for all intents and purposes—sitting ducks. In the room I'd been in, there were fifteen cold storage units where some of the vampires—the well-behaved ones—were allowed to take their rest during the day, but the actual "common space" was not very large and perfectly square. All the furnishings were bolted down with silver, so there was little cover to be had. Along the sides of the room were approximately fifteen hatches at various heights. I'd witnessed three of them open at once when a couple of the younger vampires had a fight. The guns that must have been always at the ready behind those hatches were no fucking joke, and the vampire who had initiated the conflict was put down within a couple of seconds. Part of the ceiling of the room was silver grating, so guards could also fire from above.

Thus, I couldn't just proceed willy-nilly into the Gen-Pop rooms without first seeing to the threats that surrounded them.

Happily, cleaning out the control rooms turned out to be easier than I'd thought it would be. A severed hand taken from my newest human shield offered me entrance. And, though the control room was staffed, there were not gunmen at each hatch. All told, there were only three individuals in the first control room.

I quickly moved on to the other control rooms flanking the Gen-Pop 1 area. After finding a similar lack of difficulty in those rooms, I zipped quickly to the floor above, taking out the four guards who were patrolling over the grated areas.

I completed each part of my plan moving methodically and noiselessly.

Oh—it was clear that my enemies knew that I was in the building. The blaring sirens and the radios screaming out instructions and requests for help made that much clear as a bell. But there was a lot of confusion about _where_ I was. The remaining guards seemed to be concentrating their forces around the scientists and upper-level staff in the building; they obviously thought that I'd come directly for my chief enemies and/or my children.

They thought wrong.

Thanks to my bonded and her wonderful mind, that was not my plan at all. It was Sookie's suggestion that I "recruit" the starving vampires to do most of the "heavy lifting" in the building. And her idea had been as brilliant as it had been simple. All I really needed to do was to free a few "soldiers" and let them take care of the rest.

After checking one last time to make sure I'd eliminated all the threats around Gen-Pop 1, I used a severed hand from a person who had been in one of the control rooms to open the door to the ladies' side.

I was dripping with blood, and I was immediately met by the hungry eyes and fangs of many vampiresses. In another life I might have indulged a few of them.

But I was _not_ in another life.

"Now, now, ladies," I said as I swaggered into the room, "there's no need to look at me like I'm a drinking fountain. There's plenty more blood to be had." I smirked. "Go forth and kill humans," I said as I motioned to the door with a flourish. "_But_ seek shelter _elsewhere_ before sunrise," I added firmly. "And _don't_ drink any TruBlood; it's poisoned."

Almost immediately after I'd finished my speech, twenty vampires zipped past me. I knew that they would make their way through the building like locusts. I sighed; I also knew that some of them had likely drunk the tainted blood already, leaving trace amounts in their bodies. Sadly, it was only a matter of time before they would die.

After the stampede to get out of the room, only one being was left behind: Jason Stackhouse. I went over to him; there were bite marks all over him, and he was barely conscious. His breathing was labored.

"Your sister is worried about you," I said as I crouched next to him.

He opened his eyes a little. "Hey—you ain't gonna kill me are you?" he asked weakly.

I chuckled. "Have you done anything that I should kill you for?"

"No," he answered immediately, "at least not today."

I chuckled again.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry that this took me a while, but work has been crazy! Thanks for all the reviews and comments. I hope I'll have the next part of Eric's havoc available by Friday.**

**Cheers,**

**Kat**


	16. Chapter 16: Inferno, Part 2

**Chapter 16: Inferno, Part 2**

_BJ McKay: Hey Bear, I don't care what they say about you man, I just still think you're the best companion a guy could have on the road... Almost. (_from_ B.J. and the Bear, _a late 70s, early 80s television show_)_

* * *

Eric POV

_After the stampede to get out of the room, only one being was left behind: Jason Stackhouse. I went over to him; there were bite marks all over him, and he was barely conscious. His breathing was labored. _

"_Your sister is worried about you," I said as I crouched next to him._

_He opened his eyes a little. "Hey—you ain't gonna kill me are you?" he asked weakly._

_I chuckled. "Have you done anything that I should kill you for?"_

"_No," he answered immediately, "at least not today."_

_I chuckled again. _

Jason fought to stay awake as his heartbeat slowed fractionally. Recognizing that there was no other practical way to save Jason, I bit into my wrist.

"Jason, you need to take some of my blood," I said forcefully. "Now."

Luckily, he didn't have the energy to argue.

It didn't take long for my thousand-year-old elixir to work in him. I used the opportunity to test my ability to withhold Warlow's blood within me from the person I was feeding. I was pleased to discover that I could. I didn't like the idea of Sookie having any more of his blood when she took mine later.

Jason jumped to his feet and was on full alert about thirty seconds after the first drop of my blood met his mouth.

"WhadImiss?" he asked as a single word.

"Where should I start?" I intoned.

"Shit!" he said. "They're all gone!"

"Yes," I responded. "I freed them."

"No," Jason shook his head. "Not them," he said gesturing around the room. "I meant _them_!"

"Who?" I asked.

"Jess. And Tara and Pam and my—um—owner. And the pretty sweet one," he informed.

"Willa."

Jason nodded.

"Where?" I asked.

"I don't know," he reported.

I had a pretty good idea—the round room. If that was true, then Bill's vision was shaping up to occur after the sun rose that day—which meant that my timing to stop it from happening was perfect. Meanwhile, I knew that the people I cared for would be safe enough for the time being, which was a comfort, given the fact that they were in the most heavily guarded portion of the building and I intended to wait for my new "army" to clear the way for me. I closed my eyes momentarily. The hardest part of the plan was always going to be saving their rescue for last, but it was the best move.

Patience was sometimes a bitch—but she was one I didn't wanted to fuck with.

"What are we gonna do?" Jason asked.

"_You_ are going to come with me," I told him as I exited the room and picked up a gun from a dead guard to give to him. "Shoot all the humans you want, but _don't_ shoot any vampires—even if they want to eat you," I warned.

"But—how will I?" he started.

"Don't worry. I will protect you for your sister's sake."

"Sookie—is she here?" Jason asked, looking around as if she would pop out from around the nearest corner.

"She is safe. I'll take you to her soon," I assured. Meanwhile, I need you to obey me without question so that no other vampires get the bright idea of feeding from you."

Jason was noticeably afraid of that thought. "Gotcha," he said nervously. "I'll stick to you like white on rice."

I decided not to tell him that that particular saying had a sexual connotation. He'd be "enjoying" dreams starring me soon enough, so I was happy to let him be ignorant about some things. If I'd been in a joking mood, however, I might have volunteered Chow for service as the requisite Asian in the "white on rice" equation. I had to keep myself from sneering. The inherent racism in many human phrases was quite over the top at times.

"Your sister will stake me if you don't get out of here alive," I said seriously, "so no fucking heroics. And don't be a dumbass!"

Jason nodded. "Ten-four, Captain. No heroics. Keep my head down. Don't be a dumbass."

I chuckled at his response and nodded. Then I assessed my internal clock. It was just after 2:00 a.m.—plenty of time before dawn.

Together, Jason and I went to the next Gen-Pop room, which was for level one males. It'd been my home for a day, but I felt no nostalgia in returning to it. The vampires I'd already freed had taken care of the humans that might have been a threat, so the only killing on the way had been when Jason "capped a fucker" who'd been trying to sneak up behind us. Of course, I'd heard the human coming, but Stackhouse was a natural soldier and hunter. Plus, he seemed to have great instincts, so I let him beat me to the punch—so to speak.

After all, he seemed so eager to help. The Dr. Watson to my Sherlock Holmes. The Robin to my Batman. The Chewbacca to my Hans Solo. No—the Bear to my B.J. I chuckled at the memory of that cult television show that Pam had loved so much that I had to get a Betamax machine so that she could record the episodes. I preferred _Charles Angels_—for obvious reasons.

After Jason and I opened the door with my "handy" key, I repeated the same spiel I'd given to the women of Gen-Pop 1, and seventeen more vampires had their freedom.

"Hey, what's up with him?" Jason asked as he pointed into the room that I had already turned to leave. He was motioning toward a lone vampire who had stayed behind. I could tell that the vampire was young—probably only a few decades old. He looked to be in shock, his eyes fixed on one of the steel doors leading to one of the cold chambers.

"I'll see," I said, though I was hit with a sense of foreboding.

Jason nodded and quickly stationed himself at the door, moving as if he were some kind of commando. He amused me, and his actions served a useful function, so I let him be.

"Why do you linger?" I asked the youngling, though I dreaded his answer when I saw red tears rimming his eyes.

"My maker is inside," he said, pointing at the unit he was staring at.

I sighed and opened it. Indeed, his maker _was_ in there. And he had advanced Hep-V. Mercifully, he seemed to be in downtime.

"There were rumors that we shouldn't drink the Trublood," the youngling said numbly, "but the guards threatened to fire on us if we didn't. Without them seeing it, my maker . . . ," he paused. "He drank eight other vampires' bloods, including mine."

"Then he has given his life to save you—and others," I said, placing my hand on the youngling's shoulder. "He did his duty as your maker, and now it is your duty to leave this place and carry on his line. You need to honor his choice."

The youngling looked up at me and nodded. "Will he suffer?"

I sighed. "Not if you don't want him to."

"I don't," he whispered.

I nodded in understanding. "I will be right back. Say your goodbyes to your master," I said quietly.

I zipped to Jason. "Stay here and watch your back. I will be but a moment."

He nodded.

I rushed out of the room and down the corridor. I quickly found who I was looking for, a person from one of the control rooms who had a pencil in her lab coat. Given the fact that she'd lost her head—quite literally—I didn't think she'd mind if I borrowed her writing implement. When I got back to the Gen-Pop room thirty seconds after I left it, Jason was still on alert. He gave me a nod.

I walked back over to the youngling, who had lain his head on his maker's chest.

The tenderness of the action made me think of Godric, but I shook my memories away for the time being.

He spoke wearily. "I grew up in Alabama—in a little town. It was the mid-1980s, right around the time the AIDS scare was heating up. One day these two guys at my school found out that I was gay when they stole my diary out of my backpack." He sighed. "They were bullies and already picked on me because I was small, but once they knew I was gay, they made it a mission in their lives to make mine a living hell. One night, when I was walking home from work, they cornered me in an alley." He paused. "They were gonna kill me; I'm sure of it. But my maker came out of nowhere and killed them both. They'd already hurt me pretty bad, and my maker gave me a choice," the youngling said as he lovingly smoothed down his maker's hair. "He told me that he could either heal me or make me like him."

"So you chose to be vampire," I said, "even before we were known to the public."

The youngling nodded. "My family was very conservative, and my parents were making me go to a psychiatrist who was trying to 'fix my wicked thoughts.' My maker offered me a better life; he _gave_ me a better life."

"Do you want to be the one to do it?" I asked, offering him the little piece of wood.

He shook his head. "Would you do it—please?"

I nodded.

"Goodbye, Master. I love you," the young one murmured as he kissed his maker's lips. He stood and turned away. I could see red tears falling from his eyes as he did.

Without hesitating, I rammed the small piece of wood into his maker's heart before quickly sliding the drawer shut. There was no need for the youngling to see what remained.

"There are humans in this building responsible for your maker's death," I said evenly. "Drink from them to get your strength, and then leave this place. Do you have vampire siblings to go to?"

He shook his head.

I sighed. "Do you know where Shreveport is?"

He nodded lifelessly.

"Across from the vampire bar called Fangtasia there is an abandoned store, a closed-down Toys 'R Us. In the back of that building is a steel door that will lead you to a safe room. The code to get in is 5-9-3-4. Can you remember that?"

He nodded again.

"Good. There is a stockpile of safe TruBlood there. A vampire named Pam will likely be there soon; tell her that you were sent by Eric—understand?"

"I understand," he whispered.

"You will tell no one else this information—understand?"

"Yes," he said.

"Good. Now go and avenge your maker."

In a gush of wind he was gone.

When I returned to where Jason stood, he was brushing a tear from his eye. "That shit was emotional," he said by way of explanation when I looked at him questioningly.

I couldn't help but to chuckle a little.

"You're a badass motherfucker—don't get me wrong," Jason said. "But I can see why Sookie likes you." He paused as if coming to a realization. "You've gotta heart—you know?"

"So I've been told," I responded.

"I mean," he stammered nervously, "it don't beat, but—um." He seemed to get a little lost before completing his thought. "That was a good thing you did for that vamp."

I nodded in acknowledgment. "Come," I said, leading Jason from the Gen-Pop room.

As we proceeded down the corridors, we found that the vampires had already liberated their brethren in the other Gen-Pop rooms we came to. They'd also left a path of dead bodies in the other control rooms and in the hallways.

"Y'all don't fuck around," Jason said like a broken record, each time we came upon more drained corpses.

Clearly, the Level 4 rooms had been the hardest hit by Hep-V. Several sick vampires had stayed behind in those rooms; they'd had no "rumors" to stop them from drinking the tainted TruBlood, and they'd apparently had it several times.

Some were too weak to move, and I offered to end them, but they decided to stay alive to enjoy the blood and the screams in the air until morning.

Satisfied that all the vampires were free—except for those in the white room on the other side of the building—I led Jason down the hall where many of the experiments had been conducted. From the observation windows, we saw some of the more "creative" vampires reenacting the more sordid experiments using their one-time human tormenters as their subjects.

"Serves them motherfuckers right," Jason commented before pausing to take a look into a room where a female human was fucking a screaming male with a strap-on. Jason cringed and shut his eyes. "'Cept that. No one deserves that," he started, "unless they—uh—like it."

I chuckled at Jason's attempt to be "progressive"—even amidst his discomfort—and kept leading us to my next target: Dr. Overlark.

Overlark's office was in a more secure part of the building, but the swarm of hungry vampires had already been through the area. Drained guards littered the floor, but there were currently no other vampires nearby.

Several of the higher ranking officials in the building had offices along the corridor. Sadly, the office with Sarah Newlin's nameplate on it was unoccupied. However, two of the offices—those belonging to doctors Ovelark and Finn—_were_ occupied. I smiled.

I studied the walls; they were obviously thick and reinforced with silver. The doors to the offices were made of steel—though too strong for a 'normal' vampire to get through.

The fact that there were several dents in the doors of the occupied offices indicated that the other vampires had tried—but failed—to get in.

However, they weren't as motivated as I was. They weren't as old. And they _certainly_ weren't as hell-bent on revenge.

"Stand back," I told Jason.

The young man—to his credit—immediately did what he was told. I "knocked" on Doctor Overlark's door. When I knocked a second time, it bent inward. When I knocked a third time, it came unhinged—just like the good doctor whimpering inside.

"You are one strong motherfucker," Jason murmured, coming over to look at my handiwork as I moved the bent metal out of my way.

I could hear Dr. Overlark sniveling as he cowered under his desk, and I could smell his sweat and urine.

Overlark's pulse raced, and he took a deep breath. I heard a click—a gun being cocked.

My fangs dropped as I moved Jason and myself to safety, just as Overlark stuck his hand out from under his desk and began firing a weapon at us. The bullets that lodged into the hall opposite where the door had been were silver.

Jason nodded his thanks to me as more bullets flew. As soon as I heard the gun click to indicate that it was empty of bullets, I zipped in the room and yanked the doctor from under the desk. He was trying to reload, but dropped his gun as he thrashed his arms and legs.

"No you don't, motherfucker!" Jason yelled as he followed me into the room. I continued to be both amused and impressed by my bonded's brother. We worked well as a team, Jason securing the weapon and me dragging Overlark to his feet before holding him by the neck. I was careful not to squeeze—too tightly.

I quickly reassessed the area. There were no other vampires near Overlark's office. There was still a human in the next office over—near hyperventilation because of the racket we'd made, but other than that, Jason, Dr. Overlark, and I were the only ones in the vicinity.

I looked Jason in the eyes. "I have something I need to do in here."

"Huh?" he asked. "I thought we was already doin' somethin'."

I chuckled. "We are. But this man injected my sister with Hep-V. You remember Nora—right?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"She's dead," I stated flatly, though my rage boiled.

"Fuck—uh—sorry," Jason stammered, his expression conveying sincere sympathy. "You gonna kill him?" he asked, gesturing toward the squirming man in my grasp.

I shook my head. "Not right away. I'm going to tear off his cock and balls. I thought you might want to be spared having to watch that happen."

Jason gasped and covered his own member with his left hand. "Gotcha. I'll just—uh—guard the door and—um—keep my eyes peeled for—uh—enemies approaching."

"Good idea," I said.

"Wait, no! Help me! You're a human! Save me from this monster! Please, God!" These were only some of Overlark's pleas as Jason and I spoke. To his credit, Jason ignored the appeals as much as I did.

"Remember me?" I asked as I addressed the good doctor for the first time since I'd entered the room.

"You're an abomination!" he raged.

"Come now," I said patronizingly, "that hurts my feelings. Maybe you just haven't gotten to know me yet."

"You can't glamour me," he panted.

I sighed impatiently as I used my right hand to squeeze his neck a little more, even as my left hand darted in to take off his contacts—all the while barely stirring his glasses.

He immediately closed his eyes tightly.

I chuckled. "I _could_ glamour you to not feel the pain I'm about to inflict—you know," I taunted. "But my sister was forced to endure _many_ hours of pain. Sadly, you will only experience a few."

"You're an abomination," he breathed.

"You said that already."

"God will save me from you," he said insistently.

"No—he will not," I responded evenly. "I have knowledge of many gods, and most are fair and just; otherwise, they would not be worth following. The Christian god will not save you because you have corrupted the words of your bible. How do you know," I asked, moving my lips right to his ear, "that I am not his agent sent to punish you?"

"You are from the devil!" he cried.

"Even if that is true, I am confident that your god will seek his own retribution from you as soon as I have had mine," I stated coldly.

"No," he whimpered. "I don't believe you."  
"I don't care what you believe," I said, squeezing his throat a little tighter. His eyes flew open at the added pressure—as I knew they would—and I immediately captured his mind with my glamour.

He ceased his wiggling.

"Now, good doctor, in a couple of moments, you're going to be castrated—vampire style. Okie dokie?"

He could only nod.

"You will stay under my influence, but you will also experience your pain. Sound good?"

Again, he nodded.

"While you lie on the floor in agony, you _will_ answer all of my questions—truthfully. But here's the fun part—ready?"

He nodded for a third time.

"As you start to answer a question, you will have the wonderful feeling that doing so will make your pain _lessen_, but—sadly for you—it won't. In fact, each answer you give will make the pain _worse_, but you will still feel compelled to answer my next question." I smiled sinisterly. "With each question, you will feel hope and then hope _lost_. Do you understand?"

Overlark nodded mindlessly even as I made good on my threat to remove his "tool box."

His scream was—_quite_ satisfying.

I threw him to the floor and dropped his severed "friends" about five feet away—right in his line of sight. He looked at the bloody mass in horror.

"Ready to get started?" I asked him.

He had to answer truthfully. I saw hope in his eyes as he told me to go fuck myself. Then there was hopelessness.

Beautiful.

As he writhed on the floor, I moved so that I was in front of the computer on his desk. "What is your password?" I asked.

Immediately he whimpered out, "KnightofGod4397—Capitalize the 'K' and the second 'G.'"

"Delusions of grandeur much?" Jason commented over his shoulder.

I chuckled and entered the password. The information on the computer was in code.

"How do I remove the encryption?" I asked the doctor.

"Control-f6," Overlark answered before crying out in pain.

"That was a mean fuckin' glamour job," Jason commented, turning around so that he could see what I was doing, but keeping his eyes averted from the mess on the floor.

"I am known for my creativity in that regard," I smirked.

Jason cringed a little but nodded. "Well—if someone hurt Sook, I'd wanna make him pay too. I ain't always been the best brother to her, but I'd kill any motherfucker that took her from me."

I stopped for a moment, noting the sincerity in Jason's eyes.

"Are you—uh—_with_ Sookie now?" Jason asked me.

I nodded.

"You ain't gonna hurt her—right? I mean—I could—uh—threaten you—say I'd kill you if you did hurt her, but—uh—you—uh—seem pretty pissed off today. So—uh—it'd just be better if you agreed _not_ to hurt her."

I wanted to laugh at the way Jason had put things, but seeing his concern, I responded truthfully. "This I vow: I will _never_ hurt Sookie on purpose. I love her."

He gasped in surprise. "You love her?"

I nodded. "In fact," I paused, "I believe it is customary to receive permission from my intended's family before I wed her."

"You—uh—wanna marry Sook?" he asked.

"Very much," I confirmed. As a matter of fact, there was a pledging knife in the home that I planned to take Sookie to the very next day.

Jason looked a little stunned. "And you're—uh—asking me this while a fella's dick is on the floor?"

I chuckled. "I guess I am."

"Okay," he said. "Just thought I'd point out that _that's_ fucked up. But—if—uh—Sook agrees, then I ain't got no problem with you marryin' her."

"Did you hear that, Doctor Overlark?" I asked with a smile on my face.

"Hear what?" he was compelled to answer.

"It looks like I'm going to have a new brother-in-law," I said. "What do you think about that?"

"Humans and vampires shouldn't be allowed to marry," the doctor responded, prompting his wails to increase.

"Why the fuck not?" Jason asked him.

"It's unnatural," he moaned. "Only the whore of Babylon would marry a child of Satan."

"You shut the fuck up," Jason ordered. "You're talkin' 'bout my sister and her man. And she ain't ever been to Babalonia. _And_ I know for a _fact_ that she was born in Monroe!"

I chuckled, shook my head at the interlude I'd just had with Jason, and went back to work.

I began searching through the files on the doctor's computer as Jason went back to watching the door. It didn't take me long to find something that incriminated the doctor, the now-dead governor, Sarah Newlin, and other high-ranking officials in the state government.

"Why Doctor Overlark," I said, my jaw tightening, "it says here that you are the chief architect of Hep-V—that it was _your_ idea. You must be _very_ proud of your work—correct?"

When my cadence edged up to indicate a question, Overlark eagerly responded. "Yes!" As soon as he answered, however, he cried out again.

"Who else has access to this formula?" I asked him.

His eyes momentarily became hopeful as he responded. "Just my team here. Top secret," he answered before bawling in his pain.

It was music.

I continued searching Overlark's computer, copying many files as my hands flew across the keys and clicked the mouse in time with the symphony of the doctor's sobs and groans.

"Why, Dr. Overlark, you _are_ a sick cookie," I commented with a chuckle. "It seems that you've got quite a collection of a particular kind of file on your computer. I believe it's known as vampire porn—correct?"

Overlark managed to nod before being wracked with even more intense pain.

"Porn?" Jason asked with interest as he came to stand next to me, being sure to avoid looking at the junked "junk" on the floor. "Anything good?" he asked.

"I believe _some_ humans enjoy watching vampires have sex, and the good doctor has a little side-business selling the videos on the Internet; however, I cannot call them 'good.' They seem to be records of his more _sordid_ experiments." I sneered at the hypocritical doctor; to me, what he was doing against my kind could only be termed rape, and there was no way that any legitimate god would condone that act. I hadn't needed my father or my maker to tell me that rape—against _anyone_—was an abomination.

"Oh," Jason said, quickly becoming distressed as he saw that the video that I was copying as evidence against Overlark and the Vamp Camp was of two male vampires being forced to have sex. "Well—I don't need to see no more—um—twisted sex stuff." He took a nervous breath. "Not that there's anything wrong with a—uh—man and a man . . . ." He stopped. "I mean when a fella like Lafayette likes another fella, it's his—uh—choice and all, so I don't got no problem with that, but when a fella don't like other fellas, then his—uh," he paused, flailing for words, "his—uh—end zone—shouldn't be . . . . Well it's just _not_ cool to get forced to do stuff—you know?" he asked me.

"Agreed," I responded.

"Rape against anyone just ain't right," he finished, his face turning white and his eyes hinting at hidden pain.

"Agreed," I said again, surprising myself by reaching out and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Jason was a little taken aback by my action too, but after a moment, he nodded gratefully before his eyes went back to the computer screen. "Hey," he said, tilting his head to one side, "that next file says Burrell."

Immediately, I growled as I looked at Overlark. "Is that file of Willa?" I demanded, not wanting to open it to look—not wanting to see my youngest child, who was truly an innocent, degraded.

"No," Overlark answered before his wails overcame him again.

I clicked the video and—with much relief—I saw that it wasn't my newest progeny, but her father. The late Governor Burrell was engaged in _less_ that righteous acts with two vampires—one female and one male.

"Ah—man," Jason commented. "That motherfucker's sick," he added before looking away from the screen.

I chuckled. "Now, now, Jason. Don't judge. The governor was obviously a consenting adult," I chided. "And—in this one, at least—the vampires also seem pleased to be involved. And _some_ people like to be dominated and," I paused, "swatted with vegetables during sex games."

"Um—he wasn't—um gettin' swatted with that—um," he stopped. "What the hell was that thing?"

"I believe it was a daikon radish," I said.

"Oh—uh—never heard of them."

"I believe they are more common to Asian cuisine," I reported.

Jason nodded, taking in the new information before shuddering. "But he was wearing lipstick and," he paused and closed his eyes tightly, "garters."

I laughed. "_Not_ very flattering," I agreed, adding the Burrell file to the cache that I was copying. "What were your intentions with that file, Overlark?" I asked.

"Blackmail," he responded before screaming.

Unfortunately, his cry was loud enough to get the attention of a couple of other vampires; I smelled them as they zipped down the corridor. Quickly, I moved Jason behind me.

The vampires' fangs dropped at the sight of the blood pooling around Overlark's body.

My fangs dropped at the sight of them in the doorway.

Jason cocked his weapon.

"These humans are _mine_! Leave!" I commanded.

Luckily, the vampires at the door were not young. Both were several hundred years old, and I'd seen them in Sophie-Anne's court before. A younger vampire might have challenged me out of ignorance. A vampire closer to my age might have challenged me out of arrogance and stupidity.

"Sorry Sheriff, we didn't know these were yours," the one I recognized as Rasul said respectfully as he looked at Overlark and quickly put away his fangs.

"They are," I confirmed.

Rasul nodded in respect as the vampiress next to him retracted her fangs too. "I have heard that you are the one responsible for our liberation," he said.

I nodded.

"Then you have my loyalty until my true death," he vowed.

"And mine," the female next to Rasul nodded in agreement.

It was good to have the loyalty of strong vampires, so I nodded in appreciation. "Can you give me an update about the status of the facility?" I asked, remembering that Rasul had been the chief of the Queen's palace security force and that he'd put up a hell of a fight—even against Russell and myself—when we'd invaded her residence more than a year before.

"As far as I can tell, most of the humans here and in the factory are already dead," he reported. "After feeding, many of the vampires left immediately."

"I don't blame them," I commented. "Why have you lingered?"

"Some of the other older vampires and I have been trying to find a way into the area at the far west of the facility, but so far," he paused, "no one's hand has worked to open the doors. There are still humans holed up in that section—and vampires."

I nodded. "I will take care of getting those vampires out," I said. "Meanwhile, I want you and the other vampires in your group to do a final sweep of the rest of the facility; be sure that all uninfected vampires are evacuated before dawn, and destroy the loaded trucks with the tainted TruBlood."

"So it _is_ poisoned?" Rasul asked.

"Yes," I confirmed. "After you go, lay low and contact me or my progeny, Pam, in a week."

Rasul nodded deferentially and then zipped away with the female vampire.

"Uh—Eric?" Jason said, his eyes back on the computer screen. He was pointing to a file that had appeared when the computer refreshed itself with the main server. It was one I'd not seen before and had a name that made my dead heart lurch—"Pam."

* * *

**A/N: Good afternoon! Thanks for all the nice comments about the previous chapter. I hope you liked this chapter too. I'd love—as always—to hear your feedback.**

**Yes—in case you were wondering—I was a **_**B.J. and the Bear**_** fan in my younger days (I think I was about 6 when it came on air). Here is the show's description from IMDb in case you've never heard of it: "A trucker and his pet monkey travel the highways of America, getting into various adventures and misadventures along the way." And—yes—this was a real show. I'm not making it up.**

**I want to make clear that I'm not a condoner of torture. I hope that—with this chapter—I showed the layers of Eric. He can be brutal and merciful. But the thing I've always enjoyed about him is that, even amidst his complexity, he is unapologetic. **

**Finally, I wanted to give credit where I think it's due. Though a lot of this scene is added, many of its frames are what happened on the show. I, for one, liked several moments of the episode where Eric "invaded" Vamp Camp. I liked his interactions with Jason and the young vampire. I also thought it was poetic justice this he took Overlark's "junk," given the nature of many of the experiments happening (which are rape in my book). As for the vampires doing the same? Well—I don't condone that either. (I guess I'm kind of like Jason there.) **

**Anyway, it's a good time to remind everyone of my disclaimer: I don't own anything. **

**Cheers,**

**Kat **


	17. Chapter 17: Inferno, Part 3

**Chapter 17: Inferno, Part 3 **

_Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged._

—_Samuel Johnson_

* * *

Eric POV

_ "Uh—Eric?" Jason said, his eyes back on the computer screen. He was pointing to a file that had appeared when the computer refreshed itself with the main server. It was one I'd not seen before and had a name that made my dead heart lurch—"Pam."_

I quickly clicked on the file and saw my eldest progeny performing fellatio on Finn's pathetic excuse for a cock. Immediately, my mind flew back to the life Pam had risked everything to leave behind—a life where she had to sell herself. A life where she had very little control.

Pam had never felt ashamed of being a member of the world's oldest profession; she was too pragmatic for that. But that didn't mean that she didn't hate the work she'd been forced to do in order to survive.

That didn't mean that she wasn't ready to slit her wrists and gamble on the mercy of a _vampire_ in order to get a better life.

After I had turned Pam, I promised her a life where she could do things on her own terms—_always_. I closed my eyes. A part of me knew that she had "done" Finn on her own terms—probably in trade from something she wanted or needed. Still—I had hoped to spare her from ever having to sell her body again.

I had failed her.

From the scent, I knew that Finn was next door—knew that it would be satisfying to kill the sniveling "psychologist." But I also knew that I _owed_ Pam the kill; I owed her for allowing the world to put her into a position where she was on her knees in front of a human of the ilk of Finn. I _should_ have made sure she was never there.

I quickly deleted the file before I had to witness my child taking the doctor's tiny—and seemingly eternally flaccid—organ into her beautiful body. As soon as that was done, I looked at Jason and caught his eyes. "You did _not_ see a video of my progeny—did you, Jason?"

Caught in my glamour, Jason quickly shook his head. "Nope."

"Excellent," I said as I released a somewhat dazed Jason from my glamour and quickly finished copying enough files to incriminate the deceased governor, Sarah Newlin, and many other public officials, as well as offer up proof about the happenings at the Vamp Camp and the plans to poison vampires with Hep-V.

The jamming device I'd activated earlier interfered with all communication signals, but I'd programmed it to function for only two hours—just long enough to make sure that no help would be called by the humans in the complex. Fortunately, those two hours had just passed. _Unfortunately_—as I tried to email the files I'd copied to my lawyer—I saw that the ability to communicate with the outside world had also been cut off because of a lockdown program in the building. Luckily, the solution to my little problem was lying dickless on the floor. Given the fact that the doctor had a secret side business, I figured he would have a way around the "standard" communication methods.

"How do you avoid the main server when you upload to your porn site?" I asked him.

"Portable router," he had to respond. He flinched from the added pain.

"Where?" I asked.

"My briefcase," he sobbed.

I quickly found the router and hooked it to the computer. Then, I emailed all the files to Desmond Cataliades with the orders that he not send them to those I had deemed 'appropriate' until noon the next day.

Jason had fully come out of his stupor and was now studying the man who continued to writhe on the floor, even as his hand was still protectively covering his own penis.

"Hey," Jason said, looking up at me, "is he gonna die from that wound?"

"Left untreated, he would bleed out slowly," I said, "but he _would_ eventually die. However, there's one more thing that I must take from the good doctor, and that will quicken his fate."

Even as Overlark looked up at me in horror, Jason shuddered. "I'm not gonna wanna watch this part either—am I?" he commented before returning to the door and facing away.

I laughed darkly and took a letter opener off of Overlark's desk. I also grabbed his suit jacket.

I bent down next to Overlark. "I'm afraid I'm going to need a hand with one more thing, doctor," I said with a smirk. "You don't mind—do you?" I asked.

"Fuck you!" the doctor felt compelled to answer before more pain hit him.

I winked at him and then used the letter opener to neatly cut off his hand before wrapping the new wound with the suit jacket. After all, I wanted him to suffer for as long as possible before blood loss made him lose consciousness.

I went over to the computer and saw that I'd received confirmation from Cataliades that he'd received the files I'd sent. Relieved to know that the trustworthy demon lawyer was now on the case, I quickly removed the hard drive and threw it to Jason. "Look after this?" I asked him. Jason nodded and put the hard drive into one of the oversized pockets in his pants.

I walked to stand over the broken man crying on the floor. "I must thank you, Doctor Overlark," I said. "Thanks to you and your computer, I now have the chemical composition of Hep-V, and I just happen to know someone who can likely find a cure for it. _And_ I also have enough evidence about those who conceptualized this place and that virus to cause a scandal ten times larger than Watergate." I grinned and squashed his severed cock and balls under my boot.

"Harsh," Jason observed quietly.

"All your work—_and_ your corrupted vision of the world—will one day be but a footnote of history," I said in a low tone. "This place and people like you will be the reason that other humans fully accept vampires one day."

Overlark shook his head as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"It is inevitable. I have lived over a thousand years," I said evenly, "and the kind of hate you've tried to peddle never lasts."

With those words, I walked out of the room without looking back; Stackhouse was on my heels.

"Remind me _never_ to make you mad," he said as he looked at the severed hand I was carrying.

I chuckled and followed my bonds to Willa and Pam until we came to the "round room." With Overlark's top-clearance hand, we were able to enter the control room adjacent to the "round room," and I quickly knocked out the two humans who had been hiding inside—probably having been given orders to open the hatch at dawn.

"Why not just kill 'em?" Jason asked of the people when I threw him some rope so that he could tie them up.

"I don't know how hungry they will be," I responded, motioning toward the windows where we could see my progenies and several others looking toward the roof of the building. It was still about ninety minutes until sunrise, but the vampires were clearly already nervous.

"And I'm assuming you aren't volunteering to be on the menu?" I added in Jason's direction.

"Hell no," he answered immediately.

I chuckled. "Keep watch from here, and use _that_," I said pointing to the intercom, "if you have any problems."

"Gotcha," he responded.

Taking Overlark's hand, I zipped around the perimeter of the "round room," making sure that there were no humans other than Jason in range. Then I opened one of the doors.

"Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?" Pam deadpanned, quoting her favorite line from _Star Wars_.

"I'm Luke Skywalker," I said playing along. "I'm here to rescue you."

There was a beat as the others looked at me and then Pam and then me.

They were trying to catch up. Good luck with that.

"What the fuckity fuck took you so damned long?" Pam demanded. "And _why_ the hell are you wearing something four inches too short for you, Urkel?"

"Borrowed from Bill," I muttered under my breath, angry at myself for allowing one pant leg to ride above my boot. It had apparently gotten dislodged because of my activities.

"_Mistake_," Pam commented snarkily.

"At least I've been working to give my outfit some color," I remarked, referring to the blood splatter. "You've been trying to get me to wear something other than black for years."

She rolled her eyes, but I could see them twinkling. "That powder blue sweater was breathtaking—_until_ you ruined it!"

I winked at her and then looked at Jessica. "Your maker awaits you, but I need a favor from you—in exchange for your freedom."

"Um—what favor?"

"I need you to stay in this building until ten minutes before dawn. And I need you to promise me that you will _not_ contact Bill until nightfall tomorrow," I added.

"Uh—why?" she asked confused.

"Your maker had a plan, and I've gone off-script out of necessity. And I _don't_ need a demigod angry with me," I told her as I punted Steve Newlin to Pam when he tried to slip past me.

Fucking infant.

Jessica tilted her head a little. "So I wait here until ten minutes before dawn?" she asked.

I nodded. "Preferably somewhere a little more secure than this area, but yes."

"But where will I stay during the day? Will I need to—uh—go dig a hole?" she asked.

"Here," I said, handing her a piece of paper. Sookie had insisted that I make sure Jessica had a haven. It just so happened to be two miles in the opposite direction of where my bonded was waiting for me. "It's an abandoned warehouse—with a basement. You can seek shelter there. We will likely meet you there to shelter right before daylight as well," I lied.

"But—uh—I'm sure Bill's worried," she said, biting her lip.

"He is," I conveyed truthfully. "But I will text him to let him know that I saw you tonight—safe and sound. The address on that sheet of paper is within two miles, so Bill will likely not even notice that you have moved until tomorrow night, but he will be able to tell that you are safe. Your silence—for just one night—would help me out _greatly_, Jessica," I said, using all my charm. Then, I threw in my trump card. "Listen—I _tried_ to follow Bill's plan to the letter, but when I discovered Jason was _badly_ hurt, I _had_ to heal him, which has prevented me from continuing with your maker's plan."  
"Jason was hurt?" Jessica and another woman asked at the same time.

I ignored the other for a moment and kept my focus on Jessica. "He will be fine, but I could _not_ let him die. And—as you know—Bill does not currently care about the lives of humans. I had to make a choice," I lied smoothly, "Jason's life or Bill's plan. I chose Jason."

Jessica's lip quivered as she nodded. "Thank you."

Another fish on a hook.

"I promise. I won't contact Bill until tomorrow night," she agreed as she grabbed the hand of the male vampire next to her. I felt Jason's jealousy as she did. "But—uh—can James go with me?"

I bowed a little. "Of course. And thank you, Jessica."

She smiled shyly at me.

"Northman, you said _my_ human was hurt," the brunette vampire next to James said. I knew her well.

"Hello, Violet," I drawled.

"You—uh—know each other?" Jessica asked.

"Violet is the sheriff of Area 8 in Texas," I said.

"Eric," she greeted me evenly. "Where is _my_ human?"

"Yours?" I asked.

"_Mine_," she said forcefully.

I felt Jason's fear rise. His lust increased too, but his fear was paramount in that moment.

I smirked and looked pointedly at Violet. "Here's the deal, Violet. Jason Stackhouse is under _my_ protection."

I heard Pam snort—rather loudly—at that.

"He. Is. Mine!" Violet insisted.

"Actually," I looked at Jessica. "Jason Stackhouse belongs to Jessica—if you want to get technical about things. _Before_ they came to this place, she had his blood, and he had hers. Surely you sensed that."

Violet scoffed. "This _yearling_ didn't even bother to challenge my claim."

"A claim you should _never_ have made—given the tie between them," I said. "And—as you well know—her age does _not_ matter when it comes to such things."

Violet growled, demonstrating the temper that had garnered her the nickname "Violet the Violent" in the 1800s. Thankfully for Jason, she'd mellowed a little over the years.

My fangs snapped downward. "Remember that I am 500 years your senior. Do you want to challenge me?"

"He. Is. Mine!" she maintained even though she backed up a step.

I shook my head. "To save him, I gave him my blood, and—even as we speak—I feel his reticence at you claim."

Violet immediately looked toward the nearest camera.

"Uh—hi," Jason's voice said.

I chuckled and retracted my fangs. "So—Jason, am I correct in assuming that you'd prefer to keep your autonomy?"

"Uh—yeah—but what do my body parts have to do with anything?" he asked over the intercom.

Jessica gently helped him. "_Anatomy_ is your body parts, Jason. _Autonomy_ is your freedom."

"Oh," Jason answered. "Yeah—I _definitely_ want my auto-freedom thing."

I laughed again. "Well, then it seems we have a problem, Violet. By rights, Jason belongs to Jessica, and her maker, Bill Compton, who is still the official king of the state you are in—by the way—is _also_ the reincarnation of Lilith."

"That rumor is true?" the strong vampiress asked with a gasp.

"Oh yes," I confirmed. "I witnessed the transformation myself. So—how about a compromise?" I asked. "_Before_ you challenge a thousand year old _and_ the daughter of a demigod?"

"That's like an agreement—right?" Jason's voice asked over the intercom.

"Yes," I smirked before looking at Violet. "For now, Jason officially belongs to Jessica, but if he _chooses_ you—_without_ your glamouring him—you can have him."

Violet smiled and looked toward the camera. "You _will_ choose me."

"Remember—_no_ glamour," I warned.

"Agreed," she nodded. "May I go?" she asked. "I'd like to get to my nest before dawn and spread the word in my area that the TruBlood is not to be consumed."

"You are strong enough as you are?" I asked her. "You do not need to feed?"

"I fed earlier today," she said, licking her lips and looking at the camera.

"Then be safe," I said. She zipped by me a moment later.

"Uh—what just happened?" Jason asked over the intercom.

"A _very_ determined vampire just agreed to make you a _challenge_ rather than a forgone conclusion," I answered. "Being with her will now be _your_ choice, but good luck refusing her."

"Uh—thanks. I think," Jason said.

I looked at Jessica and her friend. "You are in control—correct?"

They both nodded.

"You two should find a safe place to stay for now. Jason will let you into the control room," I said. "You can take the two humans in there with you—to feed on."

"I don't wanna kill anyone," Jessica said warily.

"Then just feed and leave them in the building glamoured," I said nonchalantly, knowing that would be a death sentence all the same.

Jessica nodded and pulled James out of the room behind her. Because Jason had forgotten to turn off the intercom, we all listened in as Jessica exchanged a few awkward pleasantries with Jason and promised to call him when they all returned to Bon Temps. After Jessica and James were safely out of the area and out of earshot, I turned my focus to the four vampires still in the room with me.

Pam had Steve Newlin by the scruff of the neck and Tara was standing next to Pam. Willa was holding Tara's hand—still obviously frightened.

"You came for us?" Willa asked.

"Of course," I responded. "You and Pam are my children. I did not choose you to let you perish in this place."

Both Willa and Pam smiled at that.

"Jessica was spouting shit about how we was all gonna die in here," Tara drawled.

"Bill had one vision," I told my 'granddaughter.' "I had _another_."

"I like yours better," Tara sassed.

"Me too," I smirked. "Come," I said to my girls. "There's some silver in the control room for _that_ one," I added motioning toward Newlin.

Jason opened the door for us, and Steve Newlin was quickly secured. Jason had also found a ball gag for the good "reverend." All the better.

"Why did you give Red and Lover Boy _both_ of the humans?" Pam asked with a pout. "Willa and Tara are fucking hungry!"

I winked at Pam. "Don't worry. I saved a fat one for you all to feed from before we go. He's not much to look at, but he's got B-negative blood."

Pam smiled sinisterly. "Finn?"

I nodded.

My eldest progeny took the lead to Finn's office. As we passed Overlark's destroyed doorway, Pam looked inside and saw the mutilated doctor, still clinging to consciousness and sobbing quietly in pain.

"Your handiwork?" she asked.

I nodded before "opening" the door to Finn's office for Pam and the others. Unlike Overlark, Finn had no gun.

And no fight.

Pathetic.

It didn't take Pam, Tara, and Willa long to begin their "psychoanalysis" of the hack psychiatrist.

"Jesus," Jason said, looking away from the bloodbath ensuing in the room. He was white as a sheet and clearly about to vomit.

"Did you know that people getting drained react in all kinds of ways?" I asked Jason, trying to distract him from the sounds of my girls taking their fill.

"Really?" he asked.

I nodded. "In my experience, their mode of dying often matches their personalities. Most scream and kick, fighting for their lives until their dying breaths."

"Motherfuckin' right," Jason said, seeming to regain his color a little.

I chuckled. "Yes—that is how _you_ would go. But some simply go limp, giving up their lives without fight. By far, the most satisfying to the vampire is the first variety."

"You—uh—like when people fight?" Jason asked in a quivering voice.

"Of course," I said. "We are hunters."

"Makes sense," Jason said, now nodding. "So—um—if I wanted that Violet chick to lose interest?"

I grinned. "_Don't_ play what humans call 'hard to get.'"

"Got it," he said. "So—uh—the fella in there. Is he—uh—the first or second kind?"

"Sadly," I said, "Mr. Finn is neither. He's a beggar. He's also pissed himself—twice, which probably accounts for their extra aggression."

"Huh?" Jason asked.

"He has—in effect—ruined their meal," I informed. "And they are—understandably—_pissed_ at him," I smirked.

"Oh—oh. Ohhhhh." He shook his head. "Remind me _never_ to get on _their_ bad side either," Jason remarked as he continued to keep his eyes trained toward the hallway.

I nodded. In truth, I was proud as I watched "my girls" gorging themselves. All three of them had been extremely hungry, and I was especially proud of Willa for not trying to attack Jason in her hunger. _Yes_—she was going to be an excellent vampire.

Pam stopped the others right before Finn died.

"Lesson one in draining to kill," she drawled as Tara and Willa looked on attentively. "_Never_ kill them all the way."

"Why the fuck not?" Tara asked, wiping the blood off her chin.

"They shit themselves if you kill them _all_ the way," Pam informed. "It kinda," she paused for effect, "taints the whole meal. And this one _already_ stinks of piss." She looked down at Finn and spoke derisively, "If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say that he was an adult bed wetter."

I clapped my hands together. "Well—now that you ladies have had your dinner and a lesson, might I suggest that we take our leave?" My ears were telling me that the building was cleared out, though a few vampires were still enjoying themselves by experimenting on their erstwhile captors. I was confident that Rasul would make sure they were out by dawn.

After grabbing some gloves from Finn's desk, Pam took hold of Steve Newlin, who'd not been allowed to feed and who had been looking at Jason like a lost puppy—clearly making Sookie's brother uncomfortable.

I chuckled to myself over the fact that Jason would likely be having some _very_ discomforting dreams about me over the next several nights. When I bonded with Sookie, it would break my tie with her brother, but the dreams were independent of that. I sort of wished I'd be around to see the effects on Jason, who was a bit of an anomaly. He seemed to accept homosexuality as a concept that others had the right to, but he was nervous about it nonetheless.

I led my group to the side entrance I'd used with Nora. I wasn't sad in the least to find that there was carnage strewn everywhere along the way.

But among the gore, there was also a heartbeat.

I bent down and picked up the hiding human by the scruff of the neck. "Sarah Newlin," I said triumphantly. "How nice to see you again."

Pam scoffed. "White after Labor Day? For that alone, she deserves to die."

"Yeah—kill the bitch," Willa said forcefully.

I chuckled at my children.

"Jason—please! Help me! Don't let these monsters have me! I'll do anything!" Sarah begged as she looked at my only human companion.

My fangs clicked into place. "Come now, Sarah," I scolded, "I _know_ you want to be bitten." I winked and felt her heart rate increase out of a mixture of fear and lust. "Or do you just want me to fuck you?"

Sarah's eyes dilated a little and the scent of her arousal was clear. I smirked. "Too bad—for _you_—that I have already pledged my fidelity to another—someone who is a thousand times your worth. Otherwise, I might enjoy fucking you—_to death_."

Her eyes grew even wider and the fear was back in them. My smirk grew. I'd met a lot of people—especially since vampires had come out of the coffin—whose attraction and repulsion to vampires battled in equal parts. Most of them became fangbangers. Others joined a church—a radical one.

Sarah Newlin was obviously of the latter variety.

"Jason, please," Sarah whimpered.

Jason had bent down to get some silver handcuffs from one of the dead guards. I pushed Sarah to the floor—a little roughly—and then watched as Jason's police training went into effect. As he cuffed her, he recited a modified—and amusing—version of Sarah's Miranda Rights: "You have the right to shut the fuck up 'cause your begging ain't gonna help you this time. Actually, lemme help you with that." He ripped a piece of fabric from his shirt and gagged her. "Oh—and you have the right to quit bein' such a fuckin' bitch!" He stood up with her struggling against him, but he controlled her easily. Yep—it was safe to say that I was really starting to like Jason Stackhouse.

Steve Newlin obviously did too. Jason's manhandling of his ex-wife had caused the young vampire to get an erection, despite the fact that he was secured with silver. I rolled my eyes and made sure to stand so that I blocked said hard-on from Jason's sightline.

As we exited through a crowd of corpses that made the Atlanta scene in Sookie's favorite movie look tame in comparison, we found a very nice white SUV with the vanity plate, "GodsAgnt," on it.

"She got keys in her pocket?" I asked Jason, who was dragging Sarah with us. I noted that she had a lot more fight in her than her ex-husband—the vampire.

Steve Newlin was such a waste.

"Yep," Jason said, pulling a set of keys out of Sarah's jacket pocket.

"Excellent," I said. "Then you all have a ride to where we're headed next."

After the Newlins were secured in the back of the SUV—so that they could neither kill each other nor help each other—everyone except for me piled into the vehicle as I gave Pam the address where to meet me.

That done, I quickly took to the air.

My mission had gone much more smoothly than I could have dreamed—thanks to Sookie's idea of letting the others take care of much of the work.

But now that my vengeance had been set into motion and my progenies were secure, I was anxious to get _home_—to my bonded's arms.

* * *

**A/N: Hello! Thanks for all the comments about the last chapter. You know that I love them! **

**We have about three more chapters to go, so we're winding down. Since it's Labor Day here tomorrow and I don't work, I'll try to get you the next chapter then. **

**Cheers!**

**Kat**


	18. Chapter 18: Paradiso, Part 1

**Chapter 18: Paradiso, Part 1**

"_But part of our delight is measuring_

_rewards against our merit, and we see_

_that our rewards are neither less nor more."—Dante Alighieri Paradiso (Canto VI, 121-123)_

* * *

_Sookie POV_

"You're late!" I reprimanded breathlessly when Eric zipped into the room and ended up right in front of me.

He looked at his wrist, though there was no watch there. I couldn't help my smile or the tears that immediately welled up in my eyes.

"Really?" he asked.

"Well—I started hoping you'd get back around thirty minutes ago," I said, my lip quivering a little.

He smiled softly. "Well then—sorry I'm late."

"You won't let it happen again?" I asked, aware that all the anxiety I had been feeling was suddenly catching up with me now that he was back and in one piece.

"I'll try to always be on time from now on, min kära," he said in probably the gentlest tone I'd ever heard from him—including the time he'd had no memories. His words promised so much more than what I'd been asking for that they made my heart ache with happiness and my tears start falling.

For more than three hours, I'd mostly been pacing, biting my nails to the nub, and praying. The only thing that had helped me not to go completely insane was that Alcide and I had had a few more "tasks" to complete while Eric was gone. We'd picked up a couple of light-tight vans and had placed them where our group would need them. We'd also found a day-time hiding place for Eric and me, which was closer to the TruBlood factory, but still safe. And, as Alcide had monitored a police scanner to make sure that Eric's jamming device was effectively cutting off the isolated TruBlood factory and the Vamp Camp from the outside world, I'd typed up a report outlining everything I'd heard that day from the sick and twisted minds of the employees at those locations and had sent it to Eric's lawyer, Desmond Cataliades.

But those tasks had done little to curb the tide of fear that had continuously rolled through me from the moment Eric left my side. I'd never experienced that level of anxiety before—not when Rene was hunting me, not when Bill almost drained me, not when the fairies kidnapped me, not even when Bill rose from bloody muck to become Billith.

The only other times I'd felt fear approaching that level had been when Eric was on his knees outside of the witch's emporium and when the fire was stalking him as he was chained to the stake with Bill. But those episodes had been over within minutes. I'd fought through the prolonged anxiety of Eric's mission to the Vamp Camp only by getting things done—checking them off of my mental list one at a time. But now that he was back, I felt myself shaking—coming down from the adrenaline high that had been keeping me on my feet.

"Your emotions are all over the place," he said, looking at me as if I were a kind of puzzle box. "Love, elation, relief, anxiety, guilt, exhaustion."

I couldn't speak for a moment as the feelings he'd listed mixed through me like I was a blender for them. The love was easy to explain; it was for Eric, and since I'd let myself be free to feel it, that love had become the foundation of everything else inside of me. The elation and the relief were easy to understand too. They had rocketed into me—making me dizzy—as soon as he was in the room.

The anxiety was because I was still worried about the others: Jason, Tara, Jessica, Willa. Even Pam.

The guilt was because I knew I could survive the loss of any of those others. As bad of a person as it may have made me, I recognized that the loss of my friends or even my brother would be survivable. I'd grieve—as I'd done for Gran. And I'd miss them every day of the rest of my life—as I _still_ missed Gran.

But losing Eric would have been different. My heart would have left with him. My soul would have left with him.

Eric brought his hand up to cradle my face. I didn't care that his skin was stained with blood as I leaned into his touch.

Despite his clothes being black, I could tell that they were also covered with blood. "Any of that blood yours?" I asked in a whisper.

"The only blood I lost tonight was given to your brother."

"Is he okay?" I asked worriedly.

He nodded.

"And the others?" I realized I was holding my breath.

"All fine," he assured.

With those comforting words, I felt my knees buckle. Eric caught me, picked me up into his strong arms, and sat us on a large crate. I couldn't help laying my head on his chest even though his jacket was soaked with blood. I couldn't help gripping his arms with both hands to assure myself that he was really back.

"It's okay, min kära," he said soothingly. "It's going to be okay now."

I could only cling to him tighter as more tears fell.

Alcide stepped forward from the other side of the room. I could tell that he was concerned about the fact that the dam holding my emotions at bay had obviously burst, but—to his credit—he seemed to understand that Eric was the only one who could mop up the emotional mess that I'd become.

"I'll just go and do that thing we talked about earlier," Alcide said quietly, giving me a little smile.

"What thing?" Eric asked after he'd gone.

"It's a surprise," I answered weakly.

"And I'll like it?" he asked.

I nodded. "Plus, I think Alcide realized I wanted to be alone with you for a minute."

"He's not bad for a mutt," Eric said jokingly.

"Eric," I chided feebly.

"Pooch?"

"Eric."

"Puppy?"

"Eric," I said, feeling the smile move onto my lips.

"Stray?"

"Eric!"

"Mongrel?"

"Eric!" I answered more strongly, this time with mock warning in my tone.

"Cujo?"

I giggled and leaned up to kiss him. It was slow and soft—medicinal even. It was exactly what I needed.

We both sighed as our lips parted.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much. Thanks. I got a little overwhelmed there for a minute."

"You're allowed," he said gently.

"Still—thanks for catching me," I said.

"Luckily, you aren't that heavy," he intoned with a sparkle in his eyes.

I giggled. "Watch out!" I said warningly. "Once we get settled and I'm not bein' chased by supernaturals all the time, I plan to become a couch potato and eat ice cream and bonbons until I get back a few of the curves I've lost lately."

He closed his eyes. "Mmmmm."

"What?"

"I am just imagining you with a little more meat on your bones." He opened his eyes; they were full of mischief.

Sometimes he took my breath away—like at just that moment.

"It's too bad—really," he observed playfully.

"What's too bad?" I asked, panting a little.

"That you won't actually be in a place where you aren't being chased by supernaturals. I know one in particular who's _never_ going to give you rest," he grinned rakishly as he nipped at my neck with his blunt teeth.

I giggled and then sighed. "Where are the others?"

"I flew ahead," he said.

"You wanted some alone time with me too," I observed with a little smile.

"_Needed_ it," Eric corrected.

I smiled a little wider.

"Pam drove the others here," he reported. "I can hear that Alcide has met them in the street and seems to be stalling them with a list of tasks I supposedly gave him." He grinned. "I might just have to become a dog person after tonight."

I giggled, closed my eyes, and "listened." Though Alcide's thoughts were still a little fuzzy to me, my second blood exchange with Eric had made "hearing" him much easier. Also—as always—I was able to pick up Jason's thoughts clear as a bell.

"You're right," I told Eric. "Alcide has asked Willa and Tara to help him wipe all the fingerprints from Sarah Newlin's car. Once the others come up, he's gonna drive it to our next destination so that it will get blown up—_and_ cover the real reason for that explosion."

"Clever," Eric said.

"_Definitely_." I chuckled. "Meanwhile, Jason and Pam are squabbling about how best to tie up the Newlins. Jason's wondering how anyone can roll their eyes as much as Pam does."

"Years of practice—I assure you," Eric joked.

As soon as my mind touched Sarah Newlin's, my smile faded and I raised my shields. "Gross!"

"What?" Eric asked.

"Sarah Newlin is wondering if she can trade sex with you or Jason—preferably _both_ of you at once—for her freedom. She's also thinking about how she likes bein' in handcuffs and hopes that Jason and Pam will continue to be a little rough with her." I shook my head to try to remove her thoughts from it.

Eric looked at me searchingly—as if he were waiting for something.

"What are you gonna do with the Newlins?" I asked, not making him wait for long.

"Do you really want to know?" Eric responded.

I nodded.

"Give them to Pam," he said.

I took a deep breath.

"And what will she do with them?" I asked.

"Extract any remaining information they have."

"And then?"

Eric sighed. "I'll leave it to her discretion, but if I had to guess, I would say that she'd either glamour Sarah so that she confesses her crimes and rots in a human jail or . . . ," his voice trailed off.

"Or?"

"Or she'll make her death extremely painful."

I took a breath. "And Steve?"

"He provided the humans running the Vamp Camp with a great deal of information about us. _He_ was the reason they knew that Pam was my child. _He_ was the reason they knew that Nora was my sister." Eric's jaw stiffened. "After that information could not be used to get me to murder my own child, Burrell used it to hurt my sister."

I raised my hand gently to his cheek and put any doubts I had regarding the Newlins' fates to rest. They were both horrible people; it didn't matter if they were humans or vampires. They were the proof that sometimes someone's nature was just rotten to the core.

I could tell that Eric was looking for a reaction from me—looking for me to argue for the Newlins' lives.

But I wasn't going to.

Oh—it wasn't as if I wasn't having a crisis of conscience. Of course, I was!

People were dying!

I didn't quite know how to feel about the fact that the person I loved most in the world had enjoyed—_very much_—killing a lot of humans. Then again, I recognized that Eric had been killing humans in a _Concentration Camp_ for vampires, a place where warped experimentation and the systematized murdering of a race of people were occurring with ever-increasing frequency.

I sighed as I thought about what I'd heard that day as I'd helped Alcide plant the explosives around the camp and factory.

The experiment _du jour_—according to the thoughts of several of the doctors inside the Vamp Camp—had been Sarah Newlin's brainchild. Bottles of tainted TruBlood were being given to some of the vampires, while perfectly good TruBlood was being dispensed to others. One out of every three bottles in the experiment was laced with Hep-V. The experimenters' goal was to see if the vampires in the Gen-Pop rooms could detect the difference between the poisoned and un-poisoned bottles.

A secondary experiment was to see whether the vampires would kill each other in order to take the un-poisoned bottles if they were detected. As it turned out, the oldest vampires—the three in the facility who were known to be over 700 years old—_could_ smell traces of the Hep-V.

I'd learned about what had happened in the Gen-Pop rooms housing two of those three older vampires from the thoughts of some gossiping guards before Alcide and I were finished planting the bombs. In one of the rooms, the older vampire had stopped the others from drinking. Before the guards could react, she had ordered every vampire to break her bottle of blood, whether the bottle was tainted or not. The older vampiress was then put into solitary confinement and wrapped in silver.

What happened to another older vampire was far more tragic. He too had detected that some of the TruBlood smelled "off." The guards in that room, however, were prepped and threatened to kill everyone if all the bloods were not fully consumed. According to the rumor going around, that elder vampire had found a way to drink _all_ the tainted bottles himself, thereby saving the others in Gen-Pop 1 from the poison. Of course, he'd had to sacrifice himself to do it.

In the end, the scientists were dismayed that the Hep-V could be detected by the oldest noses. Their minds had been determined to "go back to the drawing board." Sarah's Newlin's thoughts conveyed her hope that the initial shipments would _at least_ take out the young and the desperate among the vampire population—_before_ the older vampires could step in to protect the others.

The first piece of information that I'd typed to send to Eric's lawyer that night had been that older vampires _could_ tell the difference between the good and bad blood. I just hoped that they could be mobilized in some way to help prevent more deaths from occurring.

The second piece of information I'd typed was _not_ good news. The scientists were now certain that drinking even one bottle of the poisoned blood would lead to a vampire's death within a week.

I sighed. As if Eric knew that I needed a moment to process everything that had happened and come to grips with my own part in the deaths of so many, he didn't speak to me for several minutes.

Instead, he rested his forehead against mine, inhaling my scent in deep humanlike breaths that I knew he didn't need to take. I now recognized that this action was a sign that he needed to be close—needed to be comforted just as much as I did.

I took a deep breath—coming to grips once and for all with which side I was on. I was on my vampire's side—pure and simple. There was no question—no doubt. I could feel bad about the fact that humans had to die, but I wouldn't argue with _why_ they'd needed to go.

"Did everything go as planned?" I asked Eric after another deep breath.

He seemed to sigh with relief as he felt my emotions settle. "_Exactly_ as planned. Your idea to let the other vampires take care of most of the dirty work was inspired."

"Did you—um—get to take care of _enough_ dirty work?"

He tensed a little. I just hoped that he could feel my acceptance of him. I tried to "send" it to him, along with a big dose of my love.

He gasped a little and kissed my forehead. I guess he felt it.

"Yes, I got to take care of _enough_ to satisfy my need for immediate vengeance," he answered softly. "And I am satisfied that justice will be served to the other architects of that hell-hole and Hep-V." He paused. "Dr. Overlark's computer was a goldmine. It contained the Hep-V formula as well as descriptions of all the experiments done in the camp."

"You sent it to your lawyer?" I asked.

"Yes. And Jason has the hard drive from Overlark's computer. He'll give it to Pam as a back-up."

"Do you think the scientist Bill's keeping will figure out a cure?" I asked.

Eric nodded. "It is likely—but Cataliades will pass the formula along to other scientists too."

"I just pray that the scandal that is created will stop other people from thinking that they can get away with this kind of," I paused, "genocide."

"Me too," he responded, moving his hands up and down my back—as if both comforting me and assuring himself that I was really there with him.

"So—no one was hurt, except for Jason?" I asked, leaning into him and entwining my arms around his neck. I didn't care at all that my clothes were now bloody too. I had others. "Everyone's okay now?"

He nodded. "Willa and Tara were both very hungry, as was Jessica, but they were fine otherwise. For younglings, they all showed good control. I was especially proud of Willa."

I smiled. "And—uh—Pam's okay?"

"Pam always has her ways of getting food," he remarked enigmatically.

"You said you had to give Jason blood?" I asked.

"He'd been fed on quite a bit, but I was in time," Eric answered. "Other than having some dreams about me that he'd probably rather not have, he's going to be fine. He was actually," Eric paused, "_good_ to have along—useful and entertaining."

I laughed a little at the thought of my brother operating as Eric's sidekick. "You should warn Jason about the dreams—and let him know that he can't really control them. That'd probably make him feel better. After Warlow gave him blood, I'm pretty sure that he had a dream that made him worry that he was suddenly turning gay."

Eric chuckled a little. "That explains some things. Don't worry. I will make sure he doesn't have an additional crisis of identity."

"So—uh—when we bond, the tie you made with Jason tonight will break—right?" I asked. "Just like our bonding will break my ties to Warlow and Bill?"

"Yes," Eric confirmed. "It will override all ties; in fact, as far as I know, it will destroy all the blood belonging to others that is in us."

"But not our blood in them?" I asked—just to clarify.

"Not immediately, but that blood will disappear quickly since the ties will have died."

"So bonding should get rid of Warlow's Fae blood in us too—right?" I asked.

"I think so," he responded. "But—as you know—I'm not a hundred percent sure how Warlow's Fae blood will respond to a bond forming. If it is like other supernatural blood, it will be burned from us."

I nodded. I knew that that was one of the reasons why Eric had taken Warlow's blood earlier. He'd wanted to find out what the Fae blood did in his body so that he could better tell what it was doing in mine.

For the thousandth time, I kicked myself for drinking from Warlow.

"Don't," Eric said, as if he could read my thoughts; he had obviously felt my regret. And he knew me well enough to know why it was there.

I sighed. Deserve him or not—I was glad I had Eric Northman.

"Do you think you'll be able to use the Fae blood from one of the vials in order to be protected from the sun after we bond?" I asked.

"_That_—is the million dollar question," he answered. "I should be able to drink one of the vials and move in the sun _after_ we bond, but remember we have Plan B if that doesn't work."

I smiled a little. With Eric, there was always a Plan B.

Eric seemed to be considering something. "As I told you last night, humans who bond reject ties and bonds with others," he said. "But after talking to Dr. Takahashi earlier, I'm not sure how _you_ will react, given the fact that you are a hybrid." He paused. "Sookie, I think that you will likely die if another vampire tries to give you blood after we bond," he finished in almost a whisper.

I nodded. "That makes sense. After all, I _tried_ to reject Bill's blood after I was shot—even though you and I had only made _one_ exchange at that point."

"Yes," Eric said softly. "So you _must_ be sure. Once we bond, it cannot be undone."

"I _am_ sure," I said immediately. "I wouldn't want anyone else's blood—not even to heal me."

"But your body would also reject human blood transfusions," he said. "If you were hurt during the day," he started.

"When Bill almost drained me, I was taken to a hospital. The doctors there discovered that I don't even have a blood type. Not even Jason's blood could be given to me. So I'm pretty much screwed when it comes to blood transfusions from humans anyway. And," I paused and looked into his eyes so that he would see my sincerity as well as feel it, "I have chosen you, Eric Northman, and I know that we'll keep each other safe."

"Or die trying," he whispered.

"Or die tryin'," I agreed.

* * *

**A/N: Hello all! Thanks so much for the kind words and reviews after the last chapter! Have I mentioned how much I love reading what you guys have to say and that I feel so blessed because of your support? Well—I do. And I do. ;)**

**I hope that you liked this chapter. The next one will likely come by Wednesday. And the next by Friday (I hope). And then there's an Epilogue for the weekend. Or—at least—that's the schedule I want to stick to. Let's hope that RL isn't cruel. **

**Next up: Pam is NOT happy to see Sookie. **

**Cheers,**

**Kat**


	19. Chapter 19: Paradiso, Part 2

**Chapter 19: Paradiso, Part 2**

"_People can do all kinds of things that maybe aren't wise in hindsight because of jealousy."—Kristin Bauer van Straten_

* * *

**Sookie POV**

"_When Bill almost drained me, I was taken to a hospital. The doctors there discovered that I don't even have a blood type. Not even Jason's blood could be given to me. So I'm pretty much screwed when it comes to blood transfusions from humans anyway. And," I paused and looked into his eyes so that he would see my sincerity as well as feel it, "I have chosen you, Eric Northman, and I know that we'll keep each other safe."_

_ "Or die trying," he whispered._

_ "Or die tryin'," I agreed._

Eric sighed. "Thank you, min kära."

I knew he was thanking me for choosing him.

"Thank _you_," I echoed.

Eric stood me on my feet and kissed my cheek as he got up too. "The others are finishing up. They will be here in a minute or two," he said.

I nodded. "So—after we bond, _you_ can still take other people's blood. Right? And you'll still have your bonds with Willa and Pam. Right?"

"Yes—to both questions."

"You're sure?" I asked.

He nodded. "Willa and Pam are of my blood in a way that cannot be erased. They are my line, and no vampire who has bonded has ever lost the connection to his maker or child."

"But we know that I won't be able to take blood from others. What if you can't either?" I asked worriedly.

Eric's voice conveyed his patience, just as it had the night before when I'd asked the same questions. "Sookie, because I am vampire, I will be able to take blood to nourish and to heal. It's just like you eating human food or taking a Tylenol. The aspects of our natures will not change. I will still be a vampire and you will be a human-fairy hybrid. All that will alter is that our blood will reject anything that would interfere with our bond."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay," I said.

"But you already know that I will _not_ take the blood of others except in emergency situations or unless you become unable to feed me."

"Right," I confirmed. Together, we'd decided on that "rule" the night before when the thought of him feeding from others had disgusted us both.

He lifted my chin with his hand. "And during battle, I will be able to use my fangs to protect myself—just as you will be able to use your light—though not in the same way you use it with me," he grinned.

I didn't take his bait to lighten the mood. "But you're still giving things up," I reminded.

"Yes," he agreed. "Like you, I will not be able to form ties or bonds with others by giving them my blood, but I wouldn't want to." He paused. "And, as we discussed last night, I'm not sure if I would be able to make other vampire children—_unless_ it is you. No other bonded vampire has ever felt compelled to make another child—though most bring over their bonded mates, rather than losing them."

"Are you sure you want to give up the possibility of making other children?" I asked.

"By being with a vampire, you are also giving up the chance to have children," he reminded.

I nodded. We'd talked about children early that morning. He'd even offered to help me adopt or seek artificial insemination if I wanted to be a mother, but I'd decided that I didn't want to bring a baby into our lives. I wasn't sure if my motives were selfish or unselfish. In truth, they were likely both.

He smiled. "Anyway, I already have two phenomenal daughters and the promise of a bonded mate for a child. I cannot imagine being so greedy that I want or need more."

"I don't know. We both know that you can be pretty damned greedy," I challenged.

He winked at me. "I just want what I want. And, now that I have it—_all_ of it—I will want for no more."

I sighed. As I looked into his intense blue eyes, I fell in love with him even more. I smiled at him. "I can't imagine wanting for more either." I took a deep breath. "And once you make me a vampire, I'll be able to—uh—take other blood—right? I'd hate to make that choice and then starve to death."

He smiled at my words. The night before, we'd agreed that he could make me a vampire to save my life. We'd also agreed to have a talk about my becoming a vampire once a year, and if nothing changed, then I would be turned on my thirty-seventh birthday, giving me ten more years as a human.

"Your body will accept blood then because your nature will be changed. Blood will become like food or medicine to you and will not have the ability to interfere with our bond. We will both have to feed from others or take bagged blood for nourishment. But we will always have each other for _dessert_," he whispered into my ear before nipping my earlobe.

Immediately, goose bumps broke out all over my body.

Just as he began tracking kisses down my neck, we heard voices coming from the stairs.

"Later," Eric whispered, as Pam led Tara, Jason, and Willa into the room. Alcide was finishing his errand.

Intuitively knowing I would want to go to Jason, Eric let me go.

I ran to my brother, embracing him. "You okay?" I asked him.

"Thanks to him," he said, motioning toward Eric, "I'm A-OK."

I reached backwards and was happy when I felt Eric's cool hand in mine. I looked back at him. "Thanks," I mouthed.

"No problem," he responded, squeezing my hand before letting it go.

I moved to Tara next and hugged her; I almost cried when she hugged me back. "Glad you're okay," I said.

She looked from Eric to me. "I'm guessin' you're at least partially responsible for that."

I smiled. "Maybe a little, but the actual rescuing part was all your grandpappy."

Tara chuckled at the nickname as Eric gave me a mock glare.

"Sookie," Eric said, gesturing toward a pretty brunette vampire who looked a little timid and shy, "this is Willa. She is my new child."

I stuck out my hand and wasn't surprised when she took it—although Pam rolled her eyes. "Nice to meet you, Willa," I said. "Eric told me that he was proud of you today."

Eric huffed from next to me.

"What?" I asked, looking up at him. "You _did_. And I know it'd take you a hundred years to tell her yourself."

"More like a thousand," Pam intoned.

Willa smiled. "Nice to meet you, Sookie."

"Why was there a dog outside barking orders?" Pam asked testily, obviously tired of the greetings and introductions. "And what's the fairy doing here?" Pam followed up, giving me a glare that conveyed her intense distaste for me.

"The _werewolf_ is an ally," Eric said gruffly. "And Sookie is my bonded—though no one beyond this room can ever know that fact."

That information shut Pam's lips faster than a jar of super glue, even though her glare remained fixed in my direction—becoming even deadlier, in fact. I figured that if she'd had another rocket launcher handy, I'd be dead.

"Bonded?" Jason asked. "What's that?"

"That means that I'm Eric's—_by choice_." I looked at Pam. "And I'm gonna stay that way—_forever_."

"_Forever_?" Tara asked.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Wait!" Jason said, catching up and then looking at Eric. "You're gonna make my sister a vamp?"

Eric moved closer to me and put his arm around my shoulders. I was happy to sink into him—happy that he was safely away from a building full of people who had wooden and silver bullets in their guns. Happy that he was claiming me.

"Not right now, but one day—yes," Eric answered.

"Oh—okay," Jason said, processing and accepting the new information much more quickly than I'd thought would be possible. He shared a meaningful nod with Eric. I'd have to ask what it meant later.

I couldn't help but to notice that Pam was still silent and glaring—a deadly asp ready to strike.

"So—what now?" Tara asked.

It didn't escape my notice that everyone looked to Eric to answer that question.

When he started speaking, I felt my pride for him soar as his tone commanded the room. "Ten minutes after sunrise, the Vamp Camp and the TruBlood factory producing the Hep-V are _both_ going to explode thanks to some dynamite that Herveaux and Sookie placed earlier. As that is happening, Sookie and I will be completing our bond, which will make anyone else who has given her blood feel _certain_ that she is dead. Earlier tonight, I tricked Warlow into completing a faint tie with me; that too will disappear when Sookie and I bond—hopefully prompting Warlow to believe that I died with her. By 2:00 this afternoon, Mr. Cataliades will be on MSNBC exposing the happenings at Vamp Camp and the plan to systematically kill vampires using Hep-V. He'll be using phrases like 'Concentration Camp for vampires' and 'genocide.' _And_ he'll be showing plenty of pictures to support his claims. He'll also be announcing that the vampire who gave him the information was killed when the people running the camp and factory destroyed their own facilities in a desperate attempt to cover up the truth."

"And he'll be letting everyone know that older vampires—those who are 700 and up—can actually smell the Hep-V in the tainted blood," I added.

Eric looked down at me with pride in his eyes. "Did you get that information during your little excursion earlier?"

I nodded.

Eric looked back at the others. "Bill will have to focus on the PR issues that will result from Cataliades's announcements. If we are lucky, he won't spend a moment thinking of our deaths."

"And if we're _really_ lucky Warlow will just implode or somethin' when he thinks that his plans to make a new faepire have been blown to smithereens—literally," I added.

Eric grinned. "If he doesn't do the world _that_ favor, Warlow will likely," he paused, "wallow."

"Wallowing Warlow," Tara snickered.

Eric nodded. "Meanwhile, Sookie and I will be long gone—off the grid. In fact, we plan to play dead for the foreseeable future—at least until Warlow and Bill manage to kill each other off."

The room was silent for a moment. Jason's mouth was opening and closing, as if he were trying to come up with the words he wanted to say. Tara looked mostly indifferent while Willa looked understandably insecure. And Pam looked furious enough to explode. It was Jason that finally spoke.

"You're leaving?" he asked me, his voice full of pain.

I nodded and blinked back some tears. "Yeah. Bill wants to take over the world for all I know, and Warlow wants to own me and turn me into what he is. And—according to Niall—I have only _one_ big fairy light ball, so that means I could kill only one of them." I took a deep breath. "I _won't_ risk them killing Eric to get to me, so—yeah—we're gettin' the hell outta Dodge."

"I could not defeat either Bill or Warlow when they are at full strength," Eric admitted. "And I will no longer be without Sookie. If we just left, Warlow—at the very least—would track us. Maybe Bill too."

"But they won't track you if you're dead," Tara volunteered.

I nodded. "Exactly. However, if we hear that one of them has met the true death, we plan to go on the offensive and take out the other one—with my supernova ball, just like Niall explained I could."

Eric tightened his hold on me, and I could tell that he was happy at my words _and_ the matter-of-factness with which I'd said them.

"Uh," Jason said, looking a little lost, "I have this weird feeling about Niall. I feel like I should know where he is, but I don't."

I sighed, "Warlow sent Niall to another dimension, and he probably glamoured you to forget. I'm also sure that Warlow gave you some blood when you were sick, which means that you'll have a tie with him for a little while. So—if you've been dreaming of him," I started.

Jason blushed redder than a beet.

"What your sister is trying to say," Eric picked up helpfully, "is that when a vampire gives you blood, you cannot help but to dream about him or her. Those dreams can be about things you desire or things you fear," he said, looking at Jason meaningfully. "They can also be sexual in nature. However, you _cannot_ control them, and they _don't_ necessarily indicate something you would want to happen in real life."

Jason immediately looked relieved but then troubled again. "What about Niall? Can we—uh—get him back?"

"Holly's trying to help with that, but it's possible that he'll be stuck where he is for a while," I said sadly. Part of me still felt guilty for his being trapped in another realm; if I'd agreed to be Warlow's, he would have brought Niall back. However, I would have been sentencing myself to an eternity with Warlow. It had been a no-win situation.

Feeling my guilt, Eric tightened his hold on me a little more. I appreciated the comforting gesture.

"And now you're leaving too—because of Warlow and Bill," Jason said bitterly.

I sighed. "Yeah. But—to tell you the truth—even if they were both gone, I would still be leaving with Eric. We need a break from the world for a while."

Jason nodded, and I was happy to hear from his thoughts that he understood why I needed to escape for the time being. I hated leaving my brother, but I knew he'd be okay, especially given the fact that Alcide had already agreed to look out for him. And what I'd said was true. I was ready to start a _new_ life with Eric, and neither one of us thought that Louisiana was the best place to do that.

"So you—uh—really think Warlow and Bill will try to kill each other?" Jason asked Eric.

"Almost certainly," Eric responded. "Meanwhile, as I said, Sookie and I are going to play dead—at least, until one of them succeeds in taking out the other."

Pam finally found her voice. "So you're running away!" she said mercurially. "You're just going to leave! With her!"

"Yes," Eric said evenly.

"What?" Pam intoned. "Did Tinker Bell here turn your balls into earrings? I've never known you to run away from a fight before."

I was surprised when Eric's fangs didn't drop at that remark. The arm he had around me didn't even tense up.

"I've never fought a battle that I couldn't win either," he said in an unfluctuating tone. "Would you have me stay and fight a demigod and a 5,500-year-old faepire who is immune to the sun? Because you and I both know that I couldn't share a sandbox with either of them."

Pam sneered. "You mean you couldn't share a fairy with a glittery super snatch with them!"

"Whoa!" Jason yelled, taking an aggressive step toward Pam.

I gave my brother a look and a shake of my head, signaling that Eric and Pam were the only ones who needed to be talking at that point. I could see that Eric was giving him a similar look, and—to his credit—Jason backed up.

"You are right," Eric said vehemently as he looked back at Pam, "I will _not_ share Sookie."

Since he was holding me closely to his side, I couldn't see the look on Eric's face, but—then again—I didn't have to. Everyone else in the room—except for Pam—seemed to shrink in fear as he glared at his oldest child. Tara put a hand on Jason's shoulder and backed them away a few steps. Willa backed up even further.

"You're choosing that cunt over both yourself and me! _Again_!" Pam stormed.

"_No_," Eric said, his tone an eerie mixture of calm and electricity. "There is _no_ choice to be made. Sookie is my bonded—my mate."

"But," Pam started.

Eric cut her off. "And—I am _in love with her_! Being that way and _staying_ that way—those are not _choices_ for me, Pamela. They just _are_."

"What are you saying?" she demanded.

"I am saying that the _only_ choice that must be made here is from you. Accept Sookie! Or—at least—accept that she makes me happier than a million strolls in the sun would.

"And if I don't?" she asked stubbornly.

"If you don't, I will _continue_ to love you," Eric said simply. "That is not a choice for me either." He paused. "But I would kill _anyone_ who tried to harm her, Pam—even someone I loved."

Pam gasped. "And _when_ she leaves you for someone else—_again_?"

"You can kill me—_slowly_," I said.

Pam looked at Eric as the others in the room gasped. "You heard her," Eric said to Pam.

"But," Jason started.

"But _nothing_," I interrupted, my tone forceful. "I'm not gonna hurt Eric again, and I'm certainly not going back to a vampire who wants to make me a Stepford wife. And—_that_ is exactly what both Warlow and Bill would want from me. Even before he was Billith, Bill always wanted me to be the perfect little Southern Belle for him—someone to make him feel human again."

"Yeah—like a human in the 1860s," Tara said under her breath.

"Exactly!" I agreed. "And Warlow wants me to fit some image he's had for his 'mate' for hundreds—if not thousands—of years. So," I finished, looking back at Pam, "if I ever did end up with _either_ of them, then I'd _want_ you to put me out of my misery."

Pam looked dumbfounded as she looked at Eric and then at me again. "Do you love him?" she asked me. "Do you love him like I feel he loves you?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Is she telling the truth?" Pam asked Eric.

He nodded.

She closed her eyes tightly for a moment. "But you're running. Why not stay and fight them, Eric? You are a warrior."

"Do you not remember your Sun Tzu, Pam?" Eric asked.

She nodded and quickly brushed away a tear so that it wouldn't fall. "He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot, will be victorious," she quoted.

"Yes," Eric said. And this: "He who is prudent and lies in wait for an enemy who is not, will be victorious."

"Pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance," Pam said quoting _The Art of War_ again.

Eric smiled at his eldest child. "The best weapon against an enemy is _another_ enemy."

"That's not Sun Tzu; that's Nietzsche," Pam snarked.

Eric chuckled. "I was trying to trip you up."

"The two most powerful warriors are patience and time," Jason said out of nowhere.

Everyone looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

"Are you aware that you just quoted Leo Tolstoy?" Eric asked with amusement.

"Who's that?" Jason asked.

"Gran used to say that when she would ground Jason," I laughed.

Jason shrugged. "I never was real sure 'bout what she meant by it. But since y'all was quotin', it seemed right to say."

Jason and Eric shared another nod; somewhat surprisingly, I saw mutual respect in it.

I smiled and squeezed Eric's hand before looking around the room. Jason had effectively deflated all the tension that had been rising.

"I'm surprised you didn't quote something from _Sesame Street_," Pam deadpanned.

Jason shrugged. "I don't remember no quotes from that show," he said, completely serious.

Eric chuckled and then looked back at Pam. "Are we good?"

She looked at him warily. "I don't know. _Are_ we?"

"It depends?"

"On?" she asked.

"Any more questions about my plan?"

She shook her head.

"Any more questions about Sookie?"

"Tons," she said, "but I'm willing to give her _one_ more chance." She looked at me warningly. "Just _don't_ fuck it up."

"I won't," I swore.

Eric squeezed my hand again. "Pamela, you may come with us if you want, but we _will_ be leaving this morning."

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Guess," he said, grinning.

"No!" she said back.

"Yes," Eric responded.

"Why?" she asked petulantly.

"What?" Jason asked, obviously confused. "Where are y'all goin'?"

"Öland," Eric smirked.

"Huh?" Jason asked.

"Where I was born," Eric answered. "It is in Sweden."

"It's a windy shithole," Pam complained.

"_Breezy_," Eric corrected.

Pam thought for a moment and then sighed. "I'd rather stay in Louisiana having slumber parties with Billith and Warlow than go there."

"It's not _that_ bad," Eric chuckled.

"Vampires aren't supposed to chafe, Eric," Pam returned. "When we went there in the 50s, I chafed!"

He chuckled again and kissed my cheek before going over to Willa. He got onto his knees before her, causing both Pam and I to gasp and then to look comically at each other. Maybe she and I could learn to get along—after all.

"I wronged you when I made you like I did and when I sent you away," Eric said to Willa. "But I offer amends. You will come with me and my bonded, and I will teach you all that I know."

There was silence for a moment until Pam zipped over to them.

"Oh—hell no!" she said, looking at a confused Willa. Pam winked at her new sister. "I already have one newborn. A second won't hurt. And I won't subject _my_ sister to that windy hellhole either! Anyway—if I know you—you're in one of your isolationist phases. Willa does _not_ need to be subjected to that shit!"

Eric looked from Pam to Willa as he stood up. "It is your choice, child," he said to Willa.

"When he said off the grid, he meant it," Pam warned. "His dumb farm is the _only_ thing for miles!"

Willa bit her lip nervously. "What if I want to stay with Pam, but then change my mind?" she asked Eric.

He smiled at his newest child. "Then you'll come to me."

"Thanks," she smiled. "I want to stay with Pam and Tara then," Willa said, looking at Tara. It was obvious that they'd become friends at the Vamp Camp.

Eric nodded. "Pam knows where to find me, and any of my bloodline are welcome beside me at any time," he said glancing at Tara and Willa before refocusing on Pam.

Pam flinched a little. "So Nora _is_ gone then?" she asked quietly.

I figured that it must have been the way that Eric had said "_my_ bloodline" instead of "Godric's bloodline" that had clued her into the fact that Nora was no longer undead.

Eric nodded. "Yes. Now Godric's blood resides in only four beings."

Pam nodded in understanding.

"Don't launch an offensive against Bill _or_ Warlow unless you know you can win. _No doubts_!" he said to her.

"I won't," she promised.

Eric nodded. "Good. And you must all pretend that Sookie and I are truly gone. In fact," Eric said to Pam and Willa, "as you maker, I command you to behave as if Sookie and I are dead to anyone outside of this room. You may not speak of our plans or us unless you are sure that no one else will hear."

Willa immediately nodded.

"You released me," Pam said with a smirk. "You cannot command me anymore."

"I know," Eric said. "But you'll still do as I asked—just as I always obeyed Godric." He paused and his voice became barely audible. "To the very end."

"Yes," Pam said sincerely, "I'll do it. And so will Tara." She looked at her progeny. "Tara, as your maker I command you to act like Sookie and Eric are truly dead with anyone not in this room."

"Yes, Mommy," Tara said, rolling her eyes.

Eric smirked. "I _also_ command that you and Willa and Tara come to the windy shithole if you are ever in a bind."

Pam and Tara rolled their eyes in unison as Willa nodded obediently.

However, I could tell that even Pam would come if needed. And I could also tell that that fact made Eric feel better about leaving her—and Willa—behind.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry that I didn't have this yesterday. My schedule got thrown off by an extra project from work that I had to do last night. **

**Thanks for all the continued support and all the comments about this story! Just one more chapter and then the epilogue.**

**Next up: We are back in Eric's head and there are goodbyes to say. :(**

**Cheers,**

**Kat**


	20. Chapter 20: Paradiso, Part 3

**Chapter 20: Paradiso, Part 3**

"_What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? It's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies."―Jack Kerouac, On the Road_

* * *

_Eric POV_

I was relieved that Pam's emotions had finally settled down. She was still skeptical of Sookie, but she was no longer homicidal.

Progress.

I smiled at my eldest progeny and then turned once more to my youngest.

"You are welcome by my side at any time, Willa Burrell," I said softly. "I made you my child because you are strong and because I saw something admirable in you. Sookie was correct. I _am_ proud of you."

She smiled at me shyly. "Thanks."

Though part of me had wanted Willa to come with Sookie and me, I knew that it was for the best that my young progeny and I were parting ways for the time being. If she was near me, Willa would likely form the vampire equivalent of a "crush" on me. Makers and children almost always had sexual relationships—at least for a time. I had certainly had one with Godric after I got over the surprise of finding myself attracted to a man for the first time. And Pam and I had fucked like rabbits for about two weeks after she was turned—until we'd both had our fill of that side of our relationship. However, I didn't feel a sexual connection with Willa; I never had. Because of my love for Sookie, I'd already known that my new child and I wouldn't be having a physical relationship—even before Sookie and I had spoken at Nora and Gran's grave.

Taking all that into account, I was glad that Willa had decided to stay with Pam—both for selfish and unselfish reasons. Selfishly, I was looking forward to having Sookie all to myself. Unselfishly, I knew that it would be better for Willa. Without the possible plague of jealousy over Sookie and my relationship clouding her early days, Willa would be able to find her own way more easily. And—hopefully—she could find someone who loved her with as much fervor as I loved my bonded.

I kissed my youngest progeny's forehead. "Your sister knows what she's doing, but follow our bond to me if you ever need me."

She nodded.

I looked at Tara. "Are you aware of the stock you are from?"

She nodded, and—for once—she spoke with sincerity, "My maker has made me aware that Godric's memory is _not_ to be fucked with."

I kissed her on the forehead too—despite her look of distaste. I chuckled. "You hate me. I appreciate that fact. But I am proud to have yet another stubborn woman in my line."

"Seems you like to collect them," she deadpanned.

"Perhaps I'm the original women's libber," I snarked back.

"Whatever," she returned sarcastically.

I smiled at her. "You remind me of my mother," I observed sincerely.

Immediately her attitude changed too. "Why?"

"Because you don't take shit from anyone—even when you are wrong," I responded.

"Is that why you picked Pam?" she asked.

"Pam chose me," I responded with a shake of my head. "I just let her."

"Sounds like her," Tara commented before going over to speak with Sookie. I could hear the two exchanging words about staying in touch via the untraceable email addresses we planned to set up. Despite what Pam said, my farm was actually quite comfortable—at least, it was now. Five years before, I'd had a new house built on the property. Luckily, it had been just before the Great Revelation; otherwise, I probably wouldn't have bothered with toilets or kitchen appliances. But those omissions would have made humans suspicious at the time, so the house had everything my bonded might need, including central heat and a natural hot springs twenty feet from the back door. I was looking forward to utilizing that as soon as we arrived.

Sookie and I would stay connected to the outside world via the Internet, and—through Cataliades—we'd be getting some next-gen communication gadgets that couldn't be traced. Demons were always the most cutting edge when it came to such things.

I noticed that Pam had moved off to the other side of the room, so I went to her. We'd been together for a very long time, and I knew that being without each other would be difficult—for _both_ of us.

"Min dottir," I said.

"I _still_ hate the fairy," she returned with a sigh.

"I'm _very_ aware."

"It will take many years of her _not_ fucking you over for her to gain my trust," she added.

"I might have said the same before I could feel her emotions as well as I can feel my own."

"And what does she feel?"

"Love," I said immediately. "Trust, certainty, devotion, curiosity, anticipation. But mostly love."

She nodded. "Then I'm happy for you, but I still don't fucking like her!"

I chuckled. "You're not the one who has to."

"And Sookie wouldn't mind?"

"Mind what?" I asked.

"If we came to visit you in the windy shithole? Or even came to live for a while?"

I chuckled. "We talked about it when we were making our plans. She knows that you and Willa are part of the package. And you know that she wouldn't mind Tara."

"What would you have me do?" she asked with a sigh.

"Anything you want," I answered.

She nodded. "Sheriff of Area 5 sounds nice."

I chuckled. "You _certainly_ know how to do the job. I always gave you the most tedious of the paperwork."

Pam smiled sinisterly. "But now that's what Willa and Tara are for."

I grinned for a moment, but then felt my worry rise. "Just _don't_ fuck with Bill," I warned.

"I won't," she promised and then rolled her eyes. "At least not as long as he's Billith."

I nodded and then chuckled. "Strangely enough, I'm pretty sure he'll welcome your interest to become sheriff."

"Do you think I'll have to show him respect?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

"Absolutely not. I'm sure he'd just be suspicious if you did," I smirked.

"Now _that's_ the master I know and love," she drawled.

I leaned over and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"I need to know something—one more time," she said with a little trepidation.

"Okay."

"I need to know that you are _sure_ about her," she said gesturing subtly toward Sookie.

"Yes. More sure than anything I've ever felt," I responded quickly.

"I fucking hate her," Pam repeated.

"I know," I reiterated as I smoothed of wisp of blonde hair behind her ear. "But I fucking love her."

She looked at me through narrowed eyes. "Then I won't kill her."

"Thanks. And Pam?"

"Yes?"

"You need a new tailor," I snarked.

"Fuck you sideways, high-water boy."

I chuckled and excused myself for a moment. I went into the only functioning bathroom in the building and quickly washed the blood off of my skin and changed into the fresh clothes that I knew Sookie had left in there for me. They were the jeans and flannel shirt I'd worn when I had amnesia. I put my spoiled clothing into the garbage bag that Sookie had also thought to leave. My bonded was nothing if not thorough. I also took the opportunity to extract the vials of Warlow's Fae blood from my ass. I was grateful once more that I didn't actually use that part of my anatomy for anything more than a _very_ occasional storage facility.

I put two of the vials into my jeans pocket. They would each serve a clear purpose. I would drink one of them after Sookie and I had exchanged blood—_if_ Warlow's Fae blood was burned from my body during the bonding as I thought it would be.

Hopefully, what was in the vial would work to protect me from the sun; if it did, then I would be flying Sookie to a private airfield near Shreveport. There, I had a small plane stashed—a plane that couldn't be traced to me. Then I'd pilot us to Sweden in little jumps for the next two days—Louisiana to St. Lewis, St. Lewis to Cleveland, Cleveland to Montreal, Montreal to Newfoundland, Newfoundland to Reykjavik, Reykjavik to Oslo. There we'd ditch the plane in a storage facility I owned—under an alias, of course—and we'd make our way to Öland by car and then boat. A little glamour would convince the humans in our path to accept that Sookie and I were a series of different couples—with the matching documentation to go along with that story—and that my plane had different serial numbers with each flight.

If the vial didn't work, however, we'd have to go with Plan B. Alcide had already secured a light-tight panel van for our use if necessary. In it, I would take cover from the sun as Sookie drove us to Dallas. Isabel had a private plane, which she'd already agreed to allow me to use. However, I preferred not to have to utilize her aid for several reasons. First, she wasn't currently aware that Sookie would also be a passenger. I had simply told her that it would be me and up to three other vampires traveling. Also, as it stood, if Bill and/or Warlow questioned her, all she'd be able to tell them was that I'd asked for the use of her plane and its pilot, but that I'd not given a destination, nor had I shown up at the appointed time. They would assume that I'd intended to leave the area—with only the vampires in my line. My not using Isabel's plane would only help to substantiate that I'd suffered the true death.

For the second vial in my possession, I had another use in mind. I intended to hold onto it in case of emergency or immediate threat. And—if Bill and Warlow met their true deaths and I still had it? Well—Sookie and I would wait until summer in Sweden when the days lasted almost 24 hours. And then we would bask in two of them.

I imagined us on a mountaintop—me in my birthday suit and her wrapped in fur.

Needless to say, I was hoping that Billith and Warlow would bite the dust _before_ I had to use the second vial.

I picked up the trash bag and the remaining three vials of blood and returned to the room with the others; seeing Alcide was back, I threw him the bag. We exchanged nods as I handed one vial each to Pam, Tara, and Willa.

"What are these?" Pam asked.

"They will allow you to walk in the sun for two days," I informed.

"What?" Pam asked dumbfounded.

"It is a Fae blood mixture, but be careful. Fairy blood will make you drunk if you let it. The trick is to not allow your blood to chase the Fae blood once it's in your system," I cautioned.

All three of my line looked a little confused as I continued. "Listen—I don't want you to use this unless you have an emergency and need to stay awake during the day." I sighed. "Warlow is a day-walker, and if he aims to attack you, I want you to be conscious and ready to defend yourselves. Or—if you must come to me in Sweden because you are in danger—I want you to use the blood so that you can pose as humans—albeit drunk ones."

"Do you think that Warlow will come after us?" Pam asked.

"No. If you stay away from him, he will pay you no mind—as long as he thinks I am dead," I said with certainty. "The vials are your Plan B."

"And if we don't need a Plan B?" she smirked.

"Then one day, you can all take a nice vacation to somewhere secluded so that you can get drunk on fairy blood and spend two days in the sun," I grinned.

Tara, Willa, and Pam all looked at me with wide eyes and mouths.

"Just look at it as my going away present to you all," I winked.

Pam, being the oldest and having been without the sun for the longest, was obviously struggling to keep her tears at bay.

I wasn't really surprised when Sookie helped her with that.

"Pam?" my bonded asked my eldest child.

"What?" Pam snapped at her a little.

"Would you do me a favor and glamour Jason so that he can't talk to anyone about what happened tonight? Or about Eric and me being alive? Or about where we'll be?" she asked.

I had been planning on doing that, but I knew Sookie was trying to help Pam mask her emotion by asking for the favor. From the look on Pam's face and the feeling I got from my eldest in our bond, she knew it too.

"You're asking for a lot," Pam intoned.

"I know," Sookie said sincerely as she and Pam exchanged a look that spoke volumes.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of your brother," Pam promised after she seemed to find what she needed to in Sookie's eyes.

I felt surprise from Sookie and sincerity from Pam. My own reaction mirrored Sookie's, but I was happy that my child was offering much more than a simple glamour job. She was offering Jason her protection too.

Sookie smiled at Pam. "And I'll take care of Eric," Sookie vowed.

Pam gave her the slightest of nods before she turned back to me. "What now?" she asked.

I looked at the Were, who nodded.

"Herveaux has a paneled van which will protect you all from the sun. He is going to drive you to the old Toy 'R Us across from Fangtasia," I informed.

"What's there?" Pam asked.

"About a year's supply of untainted TruBlood for four and a shitload of money."

"Four?" Pam asked. "I only see _three_ vampires here without a private fairy source for blood," she snarked.

I grinned sheepishly. "A baby vampire I felt pity for will probably show up tonight."

"You sap," Pam accused, though she looked at me fondly.

I didn't respond to her comment. I didn't need to. Pam knew that I had a soft spot for hard cases.

"Well—I reject this part of the plan," Pam said with challenge in her tone.

"Come again?" I asked.

She put her hands on her hips and looked at me like she had the first time she suggested we develop a line of merchandise for Fangtasia. She'd been right about that. The T-shirts alone had made thousands.

"Willa, Tara, and I should go to the warehouse where you sent Jessica. We should _pretend_ to be waiting for you," she grinned.

"And _pretend_ that you are worried for me," I added.

She grinned. "Yes. Because you got the idiotic notion that Sookie Stackhouse needed saving."

Sookie grinned. "I often do."

Pam chuckled. "Sadly, Willa and Tara—because of their ages—will need to die right at dawn, but I'll _force_ myself to stay awake. And—as sensitive as Jessica is—she will try to stay awake with me."

"_Surely_ she'll last ten minutes, given the fact that she's recently fed," I offered.

"Surely," Pam returned.

"And when you feel the explosion," I grinned.

"I shall reprise my role from _Les Miserables_."

I chuckled. "You _were_ fucking brilliant in that—once you glamoured the director to do only night performances. And you are still brilliant," I said, referring to her modification of the plan.

Of course, my eldest child looked arrogant, but she deserved to.

"So—you will take Tara and Willa to rest with Jessica and have an Oscar-worthy performance. Meanwhile, Alcide will drive the Newlins and Jason to Shreveport." I looked at Jason and then Alcide. "You'll both need to stay out of sight until Pam arrives tomorrow night to glamour you."

Both agreed with a nod.

"We'll make our way back to the Shreveport area with Jessica after the sun sets so that I can have an encore," Pam beamed.

"I played little orphan Annie in my school play," Willa offered.

Pam clapped her hands together. "Perfect! An understudy!"

Tara scoffed. "I'll just act indifferent 'bout you dyin'," she told me. "No offense."

"None taken," I laughed.

Jason cleared his throat. "Oh—and—um—Pam should probably glamour me to feel sad when someone mentions Sook. Maybe she could make me think about Gran or somethin'," he suggested.

Again, I felt my respect for Sookie's brother growing. "Because you have a tie with Warlow, and he will need to feel your grief over Sookie's death for it to be believable."

Jason nodded. "Yep—that's what I was thinkin'. And—uh—can I be glamoured so that Warlow can't glamour me no more?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No—but you can be glamoured to tell Pam all about it if you are."

Jason smiled. "Good enough. I wanna know if that motherfucker tries to put anything else into my head!"

"Have you ever considered being a vampire?" I asked him.

Pam hissed and glared at me, eliciting laughter from everyone in the room—except Jason.

"Nah," he said. "No offense, but—um—I ain't willin' to give up food. Or beer."

I chuckled.

Pam smirked as she started to put her vial of promised sunlight into her pocket. "Do I detect a hint of ass on this, Master?" she asked with a respectful tone, even as her eyes danced with amusement.

"Yes," I confirmed. "I hear that ass-flavored Fae blood is all the rage."

She grinned, but her expression sobered as she approached me, whispering so that only I could hear. "I have loved you from the night I rose vampire."

"As I have loved you," I said just as quietly. "Even though you have always been a pain in my ass."

She sighed. "This is_ not_ goodbye."

"No," I agreed. "One day Warlow and Bill will kill each other off, and after that Sookie and I will be free to return."

"You really do love her?" Pam asked again, her eyes training into mine like lasers.

"Body and soul," I responded. "Though mostly soul."

"Vampires don't have souls," she said as her eyes narrowed.

I grinned. "Oh yes we do. They're just difficult to find."

"Then I've misplaced mine," she intoned.

I chuckled and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Remind me why I made you again?" I joked.

"Because I'm the shit," she responded.

"Oh—that's right," I confirmed before moving over to Sookie. I threw the phone/detonator in my pocket over to Jason, whom Sookie had been saying a tearful goodbye to.

I looked back at Pam. "The Newlins may have more information. You'll find an excellent set-up at the Toys 'R Us for them."

"Goody, I always did enjoy playtime," she drawled.

I rolled my eyes. "Indeed. And there are others responsible for the Hep-V. Cataliades will be sending you a rundown of any names he gets from Overlark's records—at least the ones that need to be _punished_ more than arrested," I informed. "Bill is getting a copy too. I'd imagine that he would be a useful ally in ridding Louisiana of its more unpleasant bigots."

"And—working with Billith would help my candidacy for sheriff," she smirked.

"Exactly," I agreed.

"What about Steve?" she asked.

I glanced down at Sookie. "Make it last," I said coldly, pleased when Sookie's emotions barely flinched.

"You sure you don't want to stay and oversee the Newlins' _visits_ yourself?" Pam asked wickedly.

"Priorities," I said, taking Sookie's hand. "I took care of the creator of Hep-V. Bill killed its father. And I'm giving its 'mother' to you to have fun with. Between Cataliades, you, and Bill, I know that the rest of them will be taken care of as well. And it would be," I paused, "useful if Bill saw you as an ally. We still don't know what all he intends."

Pam rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure that he intends to be an asshat."

I chuckled. "Isn't that a word spoken by _only_ thirteen-year-old boys?"

Pam scoffed. "What? It's descriptive."

This time everyone in the room laughed.

Suddenly, Willa looked nervously toward the East. "The sun will be rising soon."

I nodded. As a matter of fact, dawn was fourteen minutes away.

"Don't worry. I'll deliver the Newlins to the Toys 'R Us," Alcide said.

"There's a code to get in the building," I offered.

"Nah," Alcide replied. "We'll just take our time gettin' there and keep to the back roads. I'm afraid there's not room for Steve Newlin to be totally out of the sunlight, but he'll only be missin' a toe or two by nightfall."

"You might just turn out to be a good dog after all," Pam drawled.

Alcide winked at Pam and then at Willa, whose eyes dilated at the Were's attention. I briefly thought about commanding Willa _never_ to play with strays, but then I reconsidered. Alcide Herveaux—for all his canine-ness—was a good and loyal individual. And if Willa decided to like him, I couldn't imagine it ending badly for her.

I looked at Willa and smiled. "Be safe, min dottir," I said, kissing her forehead a final time.

"I will," she promised.

"And you," I said to Tara.

She nodded.

"Don't," Pam said to me. I could tell that one more sign of affection would set her over the edge, so I just nodded.

"Take care of them," I ordered her as I glanced at Willa, Tara, and then Jason.

Pam nodded. "As if I'd do anything else."

"The farm is less windy in the late summer," I said with a smile. "And I'll have WiFi by then."

She scoffed. "I _suppose_ we could visit during the summer. But _never_ in the winter."

"Why not?" I asked.

"It's colder than a witch's titty then." She paused dramatically. "Trust me. I know first_hand_," she punned.

I rolled my eyes.

"Glamour them to tell anyone who asks that they witnessed Sookie going into the factory to save random humans from bombs that had been set by Sarah Newlin and her cohorts," I told Pam, as I gestured toward Alcide and Jason.

She nodded.

"And glamour them to say that I followed her in," I added.

"Like a pussy-whipped puppy," she said with a smirk.

I chuckled. "_No_—like an arrogant Viking."

Pam grinned. "That's more like it. But what of Sarah Newlin?"

"She will be presumed dead once her vehicle is found at the center of a secondary explosion near the camp and factory," I informed, looking to Alcide for confirmation.

The Were nodded.

Pam turned to Alcide as well. "I'm also gonna glamour you to get a haircut—just so you know."

Herveaux chuckled good-naturedly. "Just not a buzz cut."

Pam rolled her eyes but agreed.

I felt Willa's lust spike as she watched the Were; however, I made a supreme effort not to say anything. Nature could take its course—as far as I was concerned. However, it would be better that I was out of the country the first time I felt my youngest experience sex; no matter who it was with, I knew that he or she wouldn't be good enough.

"We should go," Alcide said looking at his watch.

I nodded and turned to Jason.

"Exactly ten minutes _after_ sunrise," I told him, "dial 'M' for murder and then the number sign. Alcide will help you know the exact time."

"What'll happen when I do?" he asked.

"The Vamp Camp and the TruBlood factory will both explode," I said.

"Ka-fuckin'-boom!" Jason yelled, looking at the phone as if I'd just giving him a present.

"Yeah," I chuckled before turning to Sookie.

"Is everything ready?" I asked.

She nodded.

I looked at the Were. "You're sure it's safe?"

Herveaux nodded. "The building's got a sound infrastructure and a solid basement. It's only a block away from the factory, but it's abandoned, and there's another building in between which will take the lion's share of the impact."

"Good," I said, looking around the room at my girls. "126 Industrial Street—two miles northeast of here. Get to safety."

"You too," Pam said before she zipped out of the room. Tara and Willa followed right behind.

"Why are you smiling?" Sookie asked me.

"Pam's finally got a set of minions that she can dress up," I grinned.

She grinned back.

The remaining members of our group went quickly to a van parked across from the entrance of the building we'd been in.

While Alcide got in, Jason lingered and swiped away a tear.

"Will I see you again?" he asked Sookie.

She looked at me and I nodded.

"We'll find a way," she assured him. "It just might take a while."

Placated, he nodded. "I love you, Sook. I might not have been the best brother, but . . . ."

She interrupted him. "Hush." She gave him a quick, tight hug.

He looked at me. "Take care of her?"

"Absolutely."

He reached out for my hand and I shook his. As Jason climbed into the passenger side of the van, I noticed Sarah Newlin tied up and gagged in the back seat. There were a couple of vampire toes sticking out of a blanket right next to her face.

I smiled, but refrained from saying, "Good dog."

"Ready?" Sookie asked me.

"Absolutely."

* * *

**A/N: I hope you liked being back in Eric's head! Thanks so much for all the messages for the last chapter. I had to laugh at how many of you commented about Jason needing to be glamoured. I love how invested you all are in the story that you noticed that detail! Of course, I knew that the plans for that were coming—even giving Jason another moment to shine—but I smiled every time y'all seemed to be getting into my brain and reminding me to tie up the loose ends. LOL. ;)**

**Well—our journey with this story is almost over. Just the Epilogue to go. We'll get 4 points of view in it. I bet you can guess whose.**

**Until then,**

**Kat**


	21. Epilogue: Harmony

**Epilogue: Harmony**

_Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.—Mahatma Gandhi_

* * *

_**Sookie POV**_

The Vamp Camp had been built in the center of an abandoned warehouse district north of Baton Rouge near the Mississippi River. Unfortunately, the phrases "light tight" and "structurally sound" hadn't really applied to many of the dilapidated buildings in its vicinity. The one Eric and I were in was on slightly higher ground than the others, which explained why the original architects had included a half basement. Earlier, Alcide had concluded that the southeast room in that basement was light-tight and that the building was sturdy enough not to collapse around us when the bombs at the Vamp Camp and the TruBlood factory went off.

Thus, it had been declared the "winner" for Eric and my resting place. I was thinking of it as the "love shack" since it was also where we'd be completing our bond.

Alcide had left Sarah Newlin's SUV in the center of the first floor of the building. Earlier we'd found an entry point wide enough to drive a vehicle through, and Sarah's car was parked next to the van that Eric and I would use if the vial of Warlow's blood didn't work to protect Eric from the sun. The dynamite—which would destroy the building when Eric and I were "finished"—was already rigged next to the vehicles.

Eric's phone beeped to indicate an incoming text. He checked it, and then—with a sneer—he crushed the phone and threw it into Sarah's SUV.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"Yes," he responded simply, though I could tell he was still a little irritated.

After Eric quickly inspected the explosives, I led him down to the basement.

The "safe room" that Alcide and I had found while Eric had been doing his "thing" wasn't much to look at. Given the rusty lockers along one wall, it had probably been an employee changing room.

Earlier, while I'd been "sprucing the place up" a little—which had included using an old push broom to clean the half inch of dust from the floor in the part of the room Eric and I would be using—Alcide had driven to where we'd abandoned my car and had gotten the quilt that I always left in the trunk. I'd spread the quilt out in the corner of the room. A few battery operated lanterns—placed around the little pallet—provided as much romance as was possible given the circumstances.

"The lights were the surprise Alcide was setting up before," I chuckled. "Candles would have been too dangerous."

Eric nodded and smiled a little.

I shrugged. "Otherwise, it would have been just _this_ for light," I said, holding up the small flashlight I'd been using.

"And the quilt?" he asked. "It smells of you already."

I nodded. "From my car. Gran made it."

He smiled. "It's good we have it. You might get chilly when we fly otherwise."

I smiled back. "It'll be nice to keep it. Most of Gran's quilts got destroyed by the Maenad, but since this one was in my car, it was spared."

He bent down to kiss my forehead.

"It's probably not gonna be that comfortable," I said, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

"It's _perfect_," Eric responded in almost a whisper. "Plus, once we share blood, I don't think it will matter—do you?"

"No," I shook my head and blushed. Where we actually were really didn't register to us at all during one of our "trips."

He chuckled. "Better than starting off in a shower."

I laughed. We'd both had pickled skin and I was ice cold because the hot water heater had run out of water by the time we'd "come back" from our first bonding "trip."

"What about Bill? Do you think he's nearby?" I asked, my laughter dying and being replaced by worry.

Eric shook his head. "No. I texted him while I was flying to you earlier. I told him that I was getting ready to 'give myself up' but that I'd seen Jessica and Pam in one of the Gen-Pop rooms. I expressed my conviction that today would _not_ be the day for his premonition to come to pass."

"And?" I asked.

"And—_seventy-two _minutes later, he texted back to tell me that he was still in Bon Temps and would be here in twenty-four hours to begin waiting for his prediction to occur."

"Is that why you crushed your phone?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yes. Though it's better for us that Bill isn't here, he _should_ have come tonight." He sighed. "Today would have been the day."

"For his prediction to come true?" I gasped.

"Yes," Eric confirmed. "In fact, why Bill waited even a day after first having Warlow's blood is fucking beyond me! Had I not been here tonight," he stopped.

He didn't need to complete his sentence. Had Eric not been there, Tara, Jessica, Pam, and Willa would have met their true deaths with the rising of the sun.

"Pam was right. Bill _is_ an asshat," I scoffed.

Eric shook his head. "The world would have to be coming to a fucking end for me to wait seventy-two minutes to acknowledge good news about either of my children's safety."

"I know."

He sighed. "But at least Bill's ambivalence means that he won't know that the plan changed until he hears of the explosion or sees Cataliades's television debut. Hell—it might take Jessica's arrival for him to realize that his plan was scrapped."

I smiled. "I'm glad she agreed not to contact him."

Eric shrugged. "It was a variable to leave her alive, but you were right about her. She's much more honorable than her maker."

I nodded. "How long?"

"Eleven minutes until the explosion. The sun will be up in one minute," he answered.

"We should go up there so that you can see it—at least for a minute," I said.

Eric shook his head. "I'm looking at the only sun I will ever need," he said, taking my hand. "Your light is my sun."

"No—Eric. It's _you_," I responded, even as my eyes filled with tears because of his fervent words.

He looked at me in confusion.

"_You_ are the 'being of the light' that you told me about from the _Book of Lilith_—not Billith and certainly not Warlow. _You_ saved the vampires here today. _You_ stopped Hep-V from killin' others. It's _you_. And _you_ are _my_ sun!"

He looked speechless for a moment.

I continued. "I see a little glow in all vampires—except Warlow—which is ironic since he's the fuckin' fairy." I paused. "And—here's the thing—_your_ light is the brightest to me. I used to think that was because of your age, but Russell's was barely existent, and—though close—Godric's was dimmer than yours too. _You_ are the light."

"We'll be the light together," he said passionately.

"Okay," I smiled, even as hot tears streamed down my cheeks. After all, I was willing to be _anything_ with him.

He looked at me as if I was the only thing he ever wanted to see again. I hoped that I was looking back the same way.

"Take your clothes off," he ordered huskily.

I giggled. "Why?"

"I want to be inside of you when we finish our bond—that's why," he growled.

My breath hitched.

"The clock is ticking, Stackhouse," he said. "And I have only a few minutes to make sure you get off before bombs go off and we _both_ get off."

His offer was too good to refuse. Quickly, I took off my clothes even as he was doing the same. After we were done, he seemed frozen—just taking me in—for at least thirty seconds. I think that it was in those seconds that I truly _felt_ beautiful—maybe for the very first time.

There was something about the way Eric looked at me that was able to erase—no, to _eclipse_—all the negatives that I'd ever heard from others' thoughts. It was able to help me move beyond the manipulations of Bill and Warlow. It was able to help me forgive myself for my mistakes.

That Eric could look at me like that—as if I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen—took my breath away. And I knew that he wasn't just appreciative of my body. He didn't want a sun-shiny fairy package which conformed to his pre-set wishes. He wanted _me_—Sookie Stackhouse. I was no assignment for him. I was no stab at redemption. I was no prize to be won. I was no line item on a contract.

I was just me.

And I was his.

"You're the only one who's ever seen all of me," I whispered in awe. And it was true: Eric had noticed both fairy Sookie _and_ human Sookie.

Moreover, the greedy vampire in front of me wanted _both_!

By contrast, Bill and Warlow had each noticed only one of the "me's", and—even then—they'd not looked at that one without seeing what _they_ wanted to see.

"That's because I belong to you," Eric said as he moved toward me.

"Mine," I responded—both ready and happy to accept the gift he was offering me.

He reached out his hand for mine, and I noticed that the light that had dimmed when I left his side the morning before—the light that _he_ encouraged to arise in me—was back as soon as our palms touched.

"How long do we have?" I asked.

"Just over six minutes," he responded with a smirk. "I'll have to work fast."

He positioned us on the quilt so that his back was against the wall and I was sitting on his lap. He was already hard, but—then again—I was already wet for him. Impossibly so. Just looking at his body would have been enough, but the thought of us completing our bond and the way he'd been looking at me were the things that had really gotten me stirred up.

One of his hands stroked down my body until his fingers came into contact with my clit. He leaned forward to steal my resulting gasp with a kiss.

Even as his tongue made its entry into my eager mouth, two of his fingers entered my sheath. I moaned, which caused a vibration in our kiss, which caused him to moan in return. My body rose and fell with the movements of his fingers: up, down, in, out. One of my hands snuck down to join the party. I gently smoothed a bead of pre-cum around the head of Eric's dick before circling my fingers around the base of it and then stroking him.

Our sexes were so close to each other—so aching for each other. Tantalizing.

It wasn't long before Eric's fingers curled to find my G-spot, even as his thumb moved to stroke my clit. Almost immediately, my body was shaking with release. However, just as my orgasm had begun to subside, Eric replaced his fingers with something infinitely more satisfying. He lifted my hips in time with his slow thrusts.

"How long do we have?" I asked him breathlessly.

"Ninety seconds," he responded as he continued his thrusts.

I nodded and enjoyed the way we moved together—the perfect fit.

Neither of us spoke for more than a minute. However, our gazes were as locked together as our bodies. And the light that I was certain wouldn't have been possible without Eric encompassed us both in its golden sheen.

Eric stopped moving—filling me completely.

"Twenty seconds until it detonates. You ready?" he asked, even as he lifted his palm to his already-lowered fangs.

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Yes," I answered unequivocally.

He bit and held his bloody palm out to me even as he positioned his fangs over my neck.

"Three, two, one," he said.

And then we drank.

We felt the percussion of the explosions—though it might have been the force of the bond completing itself or the force of the orgasms that rippled through us both.

I knew that the evil doings of mankind were becoming a mangled mass of metal less than a mile from where we were, but in that moment, I just didn't care.

* * *

_**Bill POV**_

I felt Sookie's essence leave me like the breeze left Louisiana in the dead of summer.

There had been a time when losing my connection to her like that would have crushed me.

"I loved her once," I heard myself saying aloud, though I didn't experience the feelings that ought to have gone along with those words.

In truth, Sookie's death meant fewer complications for me, and I was grateful for it. Without her in the picture, Warlow would be more docile—less bent on escape. Takahashi was already working on a way to synthesize Warlow's Fae blood. When he succeeded, I planned to stake Warlow. However, in the meantime, I needed him so that I could continue to walk in the sun.

My own child's life force still thrummed steadily inside of me, so I didn't worry that Sookie's demise had fucked up the happenings at the Vamp Camp. Eric was now in place, and soon my plans would come to fruition.

I didn't give Sookie another thought as I continued to feed from and to fuck the donor I'd procured.

* * *

_**Warlow POV**_

I was already weak from blood loss when I felt the blow. It was like a thousand pieces of glass had hit my body in chorus as I felt all the drops of Sookie's blood inside of me lose contact with their source.

She was dead.

She was dead.

I felt lukewarm tears stream down my cheeks, but I was too weak to wail in my pain.

For so long, I had dreamed of the woman I'd "bought" from the Stackhouse bloodline—a woman whose blood and spark had traveled through millennia just for me.

I had meant to make her love me no matter how long it took or what measures I had to take. She _would_ _have_ become my perfect mate in time—someone with whom to traverse the world.

I had tried and failed to turn both humans and fairies in the past, but I had been certain that Sookie—as a hybrid—would be different.

I barely registered that Northman, too, had perished from my blood. The disappearance of our weak tie was but scratch compared to the pain I felt at losing _my_ mate.

"They must have died together," I whispered as I felt jealousy surge through me. If Sookie had to die, it should have been by _my_ side!

My only comfort was that I was now confident that Sookie and I _had_ begun a bond, after all. Otherwise, I wouldn't have felt such pain at her death. Northman had been right; it wouldn't have been possible for Sookie to form a bond with anyone but me. It was likely because of her nature—her shielding ability—that I couldn't feel it before.

I closed my eyes tightly, thinking about how I _should_ have operated with Sookie.

I'd been foolish for wanting her love to match mine before I turned her. I should have simply forced a bond from the start and then turned her once it was complete. Her love would have followed—eventually.

I briefly thought about adopting this plan with Bellefleur's remaining daughter, but quickly rejected that idea. I felt no kinship with her. She was of a different race of Fae than I was. No! I needed someone of Niall's line!

"Jason," I said aloud.

I smiled. Jason _could_ have a female child, and that female would give me access to the line of my people. Perhaps she might even have a spark.

Yes. Jason was the answer. Destiny had used Sookie to teach me that I needed to be more decisive in capturing my mate.

I smiled. I knew that Bill would want to keep me in Bon Temps, which would keep me close to Jason. And I would become the model prisoner, offering my blood without complaint to keep Bill walking in the sun. Hopefully, "my maker" would soon trust me enough to give me a "parole" of sorts. I could even suggest that he command me to stay in town and "behave myself." And then I could keep a closer watch on Jason, perhaps even steering him toward a match with the Bellefleur girl.

"Perfect!" I said to myself. If Jason mated with the half-breed, then they would most likely produce at least one child who had the essential spark.

Though I was weak, I marshalled my energy to check on Jason using the tie I'd already created with him.

The fortuitous move of giving Jason my blood had been made only to ingratiate myself to Sookie. However, now I realized that the tie with Jason was the most important part of my interactions with Sookie!

"Perfect!" I repeated as I felt Jason with my blood.

Although I couldn't pick up much in my weakened state, I could tell that he was fine—excited even. It was obvious he didn't yet know of his sister's death. Luckily, he could be glamoured, and as soon as I found the opportunity, I would do just that—making sure that he pursued Bellefleur's child.

I smiled and allowed my grief over Sookie to burn away as our tie had minutes before. I would bide my time monitoring Jason's bloodline, and when a girl with the fairy spark was born, I _would_ make her mine.

Meanwhile, I would manipulate Bill into letting his guard down.

I'd killed my maker once; I was determined to do it again!

Then I would wait for my prize.

* * *

_**Eric POV**_

Euphoria.

Bliss.

Happiness.

Peace.

The feeling of being whole for the first time.

"Where are we?" Sookie asked.

"I don't know," I responded.

"Open your eyes," she ordered with a giggle. "I wanna know why the only things I see are snow and mountains."

I obeyed and immediately recognized the place. "We are in Åre, Sweden," I said, awestruck. "I have a cabin near this place."

Sookie giggled. "It figures that two out of three of our 'trips' would be to snowy places."

I chuckled in wonder as I saw that we were on a bed of furs again. "Well—it _was_ my turn."

She nodded. "We can keep exchanging—right?"

"Absolutely," I confirmed. "Perhaps next time we'll be somewhere hot again."

She giggled. "It's not as if I'm cold here. I know I should be—bein' in the snow on the top of a mountain in nothing but my birthday suit."

"I _love_ your birthday suit," I said waggling my eyebrows.

"And I love yours," she said, eyeing me lustily. "It's a good thing you don't shrink in the snow."

I looked down at my ready cock. Nope—no shrinkage there. In fact, I was still hard for her.

She lay back on the furs and opened herself to me as I moved to hover over her.

I could feel her emotions and she could feel mine as we made love on the top of the snowy mountain as _fully_ bonded mates.

Perfection.

And as we both came undone, we were encompassed in a light so warm that it would have melted the snow if we were truly in Åre.

* * *

_**Sookie POV**_

Eric and I had just come back to ourselves from our "trip."

He'd confirmed that the blood of all others—including Warlow's Fae blood—had burned out of us when we'd bonded. He'd also just drunk one of the vials.

He nodded. "Plan A it is," he grinned.

I grinned back as I buttoned a clean pair of jeans and then put my dirty clothing into my duffel bag. I gathered up Gran's quilt.

Eric quickly prepped the explosives that would destroy the building we were in. We were taking no chances of leaving trace evidence behind. In the wake of the destruction of the Vamp Camp and the TruBlood factory, no one would question the fact that Sarah Newlin's car was the focal point of yet another explosion. People would assume that she'd died in the explosion in an act of either cowardice or "martyrdom"—depending on perspective.

After everything was set, Eric handed me the detonator, and we went up to the roof of the building.

He looked at the sun for a minute and then at me.

"No comparison," he whispered before he kissed me. Because of our completed bond, I could _feel_ that he was being truthful.

I looked at the sunlight in his hair. I looked into his shining eyes. "You are more beautiful in the moonlight," I said, knowing that he too would feel the truth in my words.

"And that's why you and I work," he grinned.

I nodded.

"Anyone in range?" he asked.

I listened for humans. "Some surveying the damage at the camp and factory, but no one too close."

"Good," he said. I enjoyed the sensation of him wrapping me into the quilt before lifting me up bridal style. I enfolded my arms around his neck as he took to the air. Once we were a few blocks away from the "love shack," I dialed "F" for "freedom" and then clung to Eric more tightly as I felt the percussion from yet another explosion.

Of course, he was hanging onto me just as tightly.

I closed my eyes and rested my head against the chest of my bonded vampire.

"I love you," I said.

"And I love you," I felt as much as heard from him as the wind rippled through my hair.

I knew that there would be a funeral in Bon Temps for me. And knowing Pam and her flare for the dramatic, there would be a memorial of some sort for Eric too. I imagined her schooling Willa and Tara about funeral clothing. I imagined her in a dramatic black veil. I imagined black roses filling Fangtasia. Pam _did_ love a good performance, after all.

But Eric and I weren't dead at all. Whatever the opposite of dead was—that's what we were as we flew toward the peace we both deserved.

I just wondered how long we'd have that peace before our enemies found us. I hoped it would be years, decades—centuries even.

But—then again—I found it hard to care about our enemies with Eric's strong arms wrapped around me. I smiled and found myself laughing out loud—in joy.

"What?" he asked over the wind.

"Nothing," I said.

"Nothing?"

"Just," I sighed, "I'm happy."

"Me too," he said as I felt his glee through the bond.

I smiled, and he smiled. And then we both laughed.

I knew that nothing could separate us now. Warlow could find us. Bill could find us. But none of that mattered. Live or die—my only bonded would be Eric Northman.

Our souls were one now—our existences one.

And—no matter what the future held—nothing could change that.

Yes. I was happy.

Ecstatic.

Whole.

_**The End**_

* * *

**A/N: Well—that's is for **_**Funeral**_**! I really hope that you enjoyed my take on Season 6. This is where I would have left the season.**

**Now—I know that many of you have already been trying to "glamour" me into a sequel for this. There has been begging, utilizing imagery of Season 4's amnesic Eric to manipulate, and cajoling. I'm sure that the threats will not be far behind. And I'm guessing that "some people"—you know who you are—will even try to stop shipment on all the wetnaps I've ordered. ;)**

**However, as of now, there are no plans for a sequel. My fingers are literally aching to get back to **_**Comfortably Numb**_** and delve into the Eric and Sookie I left there. Now—I know that many of you are not fans of All-Human stories, but if you ever do check one out, I hope it's that one. **

**Once more-thank you! thank you! thank you!-for all your support with this story. Your comments inspired me to make it longer than I'd originally intended and they have brightened my world for the last month!**

**XOXOXO,**

**Kat**


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